Mending the Missing Pieces
by WrenWinterSong
Summary: The war is finally over, but the healing has only started. For Ron and Hermione, finding comfort in their new relationship seems the easy solution, but sometimes sharing the pain makes it worse before it gets better.
1. Prologue

**Prolgue: To Heal From The Manor**

Every clink of a teacup or cutlery against plate felt like a stab to Hermione's brain, but she barely flinched as she chewed her piece of toast. Everything hurt. Her muscles ached with every move, her eyes stung with every blink, her throat constricted with every swallow. She couldn't remember having a worse morning.

The table was crammed with people, but no one spoke. Bill and Fleur looked over them like sheepdogs guarding the herd, sometimes watching Dean or Luna but mostly keeping their eyes on the Hermione, Ron, and Harry at the other end of the table. A cloud hung over the three of them, making conversation impossible. All of their thoughts still revolved around Voldemort stealing the Elder wand from Dumbledore's grave, but even if they were able to share the horrific news around the table, there wasn't much they could to do about it. He already had the wand. Just one more evil objective in the hands of an evil man.

Ron took his frustration out on his food, seeming to have inhaled an entire loaf of toasted bread and a dozen eggs before turning to pick at the fruit bowl. It had been a long time since they'd eaten food prepared in a proper kitchen, so Hermione couldn't blame him. She knew she should be enjoying it more herself, but every bite she took hit her stomach like a rock.

"Want any?" Ron asked, tilting the fruit bowl towards her.

"No, thanks, I'm full," Hermione muttered as she finally gave up on her toast and let the half-eaten slice flop back on her plate. Ron gave her a concerned look before setting the fruit bowl right.

"You should have a rest, 'ermione," Fleur said, having somehow become Hermione's personal Healer and keeper despite Hermione's insistence that she didn't need to be checked up on every hour.

"Yes," Bill agreed, "beds are made up in the small bedroom. The centre door upstairs. Rest could do you all some good." He looked around the table but no one took him up on the offer. Instead, they all broke up with their own excuses: Dean to listen to Potterwatch, Luna to investigate a possible Borosuros in the garden, and Harry to take some tea up to Ollivander.

Hermione thought she might be able to escape in the sudden exodus, but two pairs of blue eyes watched her stand from the table on trembling legs. Before the parental hawks could swoop down on her, she felt Ron's hand on the small of her back. "I'll help you upstairs," he said.

"I don't need help." Ron may have saved her from his sister-in-law, but he just stepped right into her place. Hermione pushed her body to walk towards the stairs, tucking the borrowed dressing gown around herself to cover up her uneasiness. Her movements felt delayed, her body unable to keep up with the commands her brain was giving it. None of her limbs felt entirely in her control, and she hated it. She had never felt less capable or more weak.

Despite her snapped words, Ron shadowed her as she walked up the stairs. She clenched her jaw as she concentrated on not tripping, but on the last step, she paused. Her breathing was as haggard as when they'd run from the Snatchers, and she felt that if she lifted her foot over the last stair at that moment, she'd collapse.

"Alright?" Ron asked, stepping closer and hovering his arms near her but not touching. She appreciated that. She appreciated him. More than her worn-out mind could comprehend at the moment. She would never forget the way he'd screamed her name in the basement of Malfoy Manor, begging for them to take him instead.

"I'm fine," she said in a much kinder tone than before. She mustered up her strength to make it up the final stair and into the centre bedroom, but her body sat heavily on the bed as soon as she reached it. Ron sat beside her, and she felt an instant need to apologize. "I'm sorry for snapping at you."

Ron shrugged. "Didn't even notice it."

That was a lie. Ron noticed everything, especially anything that could come across as a rejection. She must have looked quite a state to garner that much sensitivity from him.

"Harry's right, y'know," he said after a small moment of silence. "About how brave you were back there. Not a lot of people would've held their tongue through that."

"It's not like a had a choice," she said. "I didn't ask for them to choose me. I didn't volunteer to be tortured by her."

"I would've taken your place if I could." She sensed the familiar frustration in his voice, just a hint of their usual bickering. It gave her an odd sense of comfort. It made her feel more like herself. Less broken.

She took his hand, an easy action that had seemed so difficult only a few months ago. "I know that," she said, meeting his gaze. His fingers relaxed to intertwine with hers. "But you couldn't." She felt his hand freeze in hers as his gaze clouded over. "I've never… I've never felt so helpless in my life."

"Neither have I." He took her hand in both of his and leaned towards her. For a moment, she saw a flash of what he must have looked like calling for her in the basement, and it forced her to pause. Being singled out by Bellatrix Lestrange and the others had stirred up a new feeling in Hermione, one that had been dormant inside for years. Certain events had poked at it–being called a 'Mudblood' or being petrified her second year–but she never let it take hold of her. She always trusted that those who hated her wouldn't be able to do more damage than she could handle, but she'd almost cracked under Bellatrix's wand. She had felt so weak. She had felt so victimized and helpless and wanted nothing more than to not have this target on her back.

But if that were possible, she knew she could never give it to someone else. If Ron had been taken instead and Bellatrix had tortured him while Hermione was trapped in the basement, she would have given anything to trade places. If given the choice, she would have taken the torture a thousand times over if it meant Ron never had to feel that pain and fear while she stood by unable to stop it.

"I didn't mean… What I meant… I wouldn't _want_ to have traded places," she finally said. "But I also don't ever want to go through that again."

Ron squeezed her trembling hand in one of his while his other arm wrapped around her shaking shoulders. She leaned against his chest, a few fresh tears sinking into his shirt. He whispered against her hair, "You won't'."

He sounded so determined, which only made it hurt more. Hermione wanted to tell him not to make promised he couldn't keep, but she couldn't crush him like that. She knew what it felt like to want to hide someone in a box and keep them safe from the world, and she'd tried with her parents. But with the Elder wand in Voldemort's hands, the reality that his side could win weighed on her. She wouldn't be able to protect her parents in that world, and Ron wouldn't be able to protect her. That helpless she'd felt at Bellatrix's hand would become her everyday reality.

"You really should try to rest," Ron said, standing up and ripping himself away from her to walk towards the wardrobe. She kicked off her shoes as he reached towards the top and brought down a large wool blanket. "Here, this should keep you warm."

Apparently, her chattering teeth had been noticeable. She accepted the blanket with a nod then climbed onto the bed over the duvet. She'd clean herself before getting into the fresh sheets. As she settled, she expected Ron to leave, but with her head on the pillow, she glanced to see him still standing at the foot of the bed. She smiled at him, and he smiled back, and then her exhausted body pulled her into slumber.

* * *

**Author's Note**

Hello to everyone reading this, whether you are a recurring follower or new to my writing! I hope you enjoyed this small start to my new fic (don't worry, all of the chapters after this will be much longer!). This is the prologue that replaced 'After The Wedding' (which, if you haven't read it, go check it out for more Romione fluff!) and I think fits the themes of this story much better.

I am currently just a few chapters into this fic, so I won't be posting a new chapter every single week. Maybe every other week? We'll have to see.

If you enjoyed this little bit so far and want to read more sooner, I am on the hunt for a beta for this story! I've tried messaging a few (ha, I mean a few dozen) betas but have not found someone thus far and just couldn't wait to post this story. (If you can't tell, I'm extremely excited to finally be writing out this idea that I've had for literal years). Let me know if you'd like to beta read for me or know someone who might be interested; I'd really really really appreciate it!

As for the future of this story, I have plans and intentions for this fic to be part one of three chaptered stories following the different stages of Ron and Hermione's relationship. It'll take a lot of time and motivation to get that completed, so reviews and follows are extremely loved as it'll boost my excitement and keep me writing. I reply as much as I can and try to express how much it means to me to have my hard work read. To anyone who has ever or will ever comment on one of my stories, you are the bomb. :)

And for anyone who is extremely invested in me and knows I promised long ago that my next chaptered fic would be 'The Dark Side of the Demob', I am still working on it! It's been a challenging fic to write as I try to keep to Rita Skeeter's voice (the number of times I've read the excerpt of The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore is absurd) as well as fleshing out stories for every member of the DA. It's an idea that needs a lot more stewing (and editing) time. It will come! Just not yet... In the meantime, I hope you love Ron and Hermione 3.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter One: To Slumber In Peace**

Everything made sense now, but at the same time, nothing made sense anymore. The war was over. Every small piece had fallen into place to bring about this moment where Tom Marvolo Riddle was dead. The bits that Ron and Hermione hadn't witnessed themselves had been explained by Harry as they made their way up to Gryffindor tower. Yes, it all made sense. It was over.

And yet, nothing made sense. Not the deaths they already knew of or would learn of later, nor the destruction of the castle they had called home, nor the lingering fear that they would all be killed on any one of the staircases they walked up.

An unsettling feeling still churned inside of Hermione as they reached the portrait entrance. They walked through sans password but with the words of the Fat Lady: "Heroes are always welcomed here."

The common room looked the same as the last time Hermione had seen it: sofas still facing the fireplace, parchment and books strewn across desks, an abandoned game of exploding snap in the centre of the floor. It hurt to look at. This was a safe place, but even from the windows, she could see a wisp of smoke, a small sign of all the devastation just outside those walls.

She took Ron's hand, finding comfort in his strong grip. It grounded her. Any time she let go, she felt like she might float away.

He squeezed her fingers as they walked across the room, walking a familiar path to the dormitory staircases. She didn't even notice she was walking up the wrong set until they'd climbed up halfway. Ron stumbled a bit when she suddenly stopped and glanced back at her with a questioning look.

"Is this alright?" she asked, glancing at Harry as well. After all of the laws they'd broken this past year, this should have seemed like nothing, but Hermione still felt odd walking up to the boys' dormitories without the intention of fetching one of the boys in front of her. However, the idea of trudging to her old dormitory alone frightened her. She couldn't imagine trying to sleep away from her boys.

Ron gripped her hand tighter. "Of course it is," he said without any room to argue.

"Yeah, of course," Harry echoed with a nod before turning to lead the way. He walked past the doors of all the dorms he and Ron and the other boys had lived in over the years, going straight to the room they would have been in if they had returned to Hogwarts. "These beds better be as comfortable as McLaggen used to claim they were."

The room looked the same as all of the other dorms, but compared to camping beds, the four-poster frames and pristinely tucked in duvets looked like heaven. No one had slept here in quite a while.

Ron flopped onto the nearest bed, embracing the pillow. "Never thought I'd be this happy to see a Hogwarts bed."

Hermione chuckled, running her hand along the footboard of the next bed over. Her knees were ready to collapse just at the sight of a place to rest. In this room, with just Ron and Harry, she finally felt completely safe. And exhausted.

"I'm going to wash off first," Harry said, already walking towards the bathroom.

"Hold on," Hermione said, reaching into her pocket where she'd shoved her beaded bag for safe-keeping. She untied the strap from the loop on her trousers then pulled out their toothbrushes and a handful of miscellaneous clothes. "There might be a fresh set of pyjamas in here somewhere."

"I'll take anything moderately clean," Harry said and brushed off his shirt so a thick layer of dirt blew into the air.

"Fair point," Hermione conceded, rifling through for only a few seconds more before handing over a pair of pyjama bottoms she thought were his and a plain t-shirt she knew belonged to him. He thanked her then disappeared into the bathroom. He'd forgotten his toothbrush.

"He's gonna be alright," Ron said, sitting on the edge of his bed. "We all will. Eventually. Right?"

He looked to her for affirmation, but Hermione couldn't get out an easy 'yes'. All of her uneasiness stared back in her in his eyes. The war was over, so why didn't it feel over?

"I hope so," she said. Ron shifted his eyes to the ground, seeming disappointed in her lack of conviction. It disappointed her too. She wished all the relief she felt in being physically safe again and being given permission to be happy again wasn't shrouded in melancholy.

She returned to her shuffling through the pile of clothes in search of sleepwear for herself and Ron. Her fingers automatically went for the wand in her pocket, but as soon as she gripped the handle, her hand froze. In Gringotts and during the battle, she hadn't let herself hesitate. She had grabbed the unfamiliar wand and put aside the way it made her entire body ache every time she fired off another spell. Holding it now, she felt the ghost of what that wand had done to her. Her lungs squeezed out all her air, her muscles tingled and tightened, her fingers went numb.

Hermione tossed Bellatrix's wand onto the other side of the bed, reaching her arm into the beaded bag once more. To hell with using a Summoning Charm.

"Here," Ron said, appearing at her side and taking the clothes from her hands. "These'll do for me." He set aside a pair of dingy blue pyjama bottoms and a bright orange Chudley Cannons shirt. They clashed horribly, enough to distract Hermione from her shallow breathing for a just a moment. Then Ron's arm brushed hers, and what should have been a comforting warm touch burned. She gripped the track bottoms in her hand until her knuckles turned white. "And you can wear this." Ron handed her a top, something Gryffindor marron, then packed away all the other clothes strewn across the bed.

She held the clothes against her belly, afraid to say anything or move at all. This wasn't an altogether unusual feeling. This light-headedness and shakiness were all the things she'd experienced at Shell Cottage. There were many times she couldn't stand being touched, not even by Ron. She worked through it–_they_ worked through it–but even after a week had passed, these moments of sudden dread still crashed down on her. Sometimes she could point out exactly what triggered them: a wand pointed at her, a raised voice, even, once, Ron saying her name. Other times, it seemed completely random. Now, at least, she'd perfected the rhythmic breathing she'd figured out to help her ride through it, but the anxiety wouldn't be chased away so easily. Not with all of the other emotions writhing around.

"Hermione." Ron's voice broke her. God, she was so relieved they had all made it out alive, but the relief hurt. For so many months, she hadn't been able to let all those fears overwhelm her, and her mind seemed to be hurtling backwards to all those times she'd suppressed her fright and worry in order to survive. She gasped in air, the tears finally escaping. Her hands shook as she threw down the clothes in her hands and grabbed Ron instead. She buried her face into his chest, the dirt and grime digging into her skin. She didn't care. Her arms were around his waist, his shirt bunched into her fists. He didn't hesitate to hold her just as tight and, locked inside his arms, everything came to the surface.

An hour ago, the elation of Voldemort finally being dead had chased away everything. The embrace she'd shared with Ron then had been pure happiness. This embrace was different. They were alone, and it was quiet, and everything caught up to her.

Caught up to both of them, it seemed. As soon as Hermione felt in control of herself, she stepped back and traced a tear down Ron's face with her fingers. There was a strange comfort in knowing she wasn't the only one hurting. With a deep breath, she finally managed to speak again. "I can't believe it's really all over. And now we're here." Her hand drifted down from his cheek to the back of his neck, her fingers holding on to the collar of his shirt.

"I know what you mean," Ron said as he sniffled and turned the corners of his mouth into what was perhaps meant to be a smile but turned into a trembling grimace. "I was surprised I managed not to die too."

Hermione released the arm she had around his waist to poke him in the chest. "That's not what I meant." He shrugged and took her hand, holding it in place over his fast-beating heart. She wouldn't let him get away with that self-deprecating jab at himself, though. "I'm surprised _any_ of us made it out alive."

"Not all of us did."

Hermione felt her stomach drop to her feet, but she held on to his hand even though it had gone limp. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. And I'm sorry about Fred."

"Guess I'll be hearing that a lot now," he muttered, his entire demeanour falling into himself.

She didn't know what else to say. There wasn't anything she could say to make it better, but she'd already put her foot in her mouth twice in a row. She paused to think through her next sentence. "You'll get through this," she said, squeezing his hand. He straightened a bit in response, coming back into himself a bit as he looked at her with hopeful eyes. "We both will, together."

That got a smile from him. A real and genuine one this time. The air around them felt heavier all of a sudden, as if they both realized how close together they were at the same time. This was the moment that, if she had the confidence and conviction, Hermione would stand on her toes to kiss him, but even though she'd rushed to kiss him in the middle of the battle, this felt so unsure now. There wasn't any danger pushing them together. Coming together now had to be a choice.

"Would it be completely inappropriate if I…" Ron started and didn't need to continue as Hermione was already nodding. He smiled again and brought a hand from around her back to her face to cup her cheek and draw her closer.

They came together slowly, the exact opposite of their collision during the battle. There was no rush now. They could savour every millimetre that disappeared between them until his lips finally found hers. It was only a light peck, his nose pressing harder against her cheek than his lips on hers, and they pulled away for a breath before repositioning and going in again. They took their time, not deepening the kisses to anything more than light brushes, a moment to breath between each one. They tried several different angles, not out of an awkward fumbling to find the right fit, but more to test each one out. They all felt right. Even when one of their noses pressed into the other's cheek so they couldn't breathe or when they didn't quite line up so one of them kissed the corner of a mouth instead, it felt more right than stabbing Helga Hufflepuff's cup with a Basilisk fang.

Soon enough, though, they started coming up for air less and less, expanding their exploration from lips to mouths. One of his hands slid from her cheek to the nape of her neck, his fingers lost in her mane of hair, while his other drifted down her arm to her waist then across her back to her opposite hip. He encompassed her, and really, she needed the support. Both of her arms were around his neck to keep herself upright, but she could still feel herself bending backwards a bit. She was lost in him; lost in the way he hesitantly ran his tongue over her lower lip, in the way his fingers rubbed against her scalp, and especially in the way his arm pressed into her lower back and arched her hips against his thighs. A content moan escaped without consent. After all the horror, she couldn't get enough of this simple bliss.

The shower water turned off with a squeak. Hermione gasped at the intrusive noise, having forgotten for a moment that they weren't completely alone.

"Damn Harry and his short showers," Ron grumbled as their grip on each other loosened. They didn't completely break apart though. Hermione settled back on her feet from her tiptoes and Ron stood up straight again, but her arms settled on his chest while his arm still held her waist. His other hand, however, grazed up her neck with his fingertips and his thumb rubbed across her wet lips as they turned up in a smile. He gave her a cheeky but still slightly hesitant smile in return as he said, "At least we can do this now?"

He turned the end into a question, asking permission, as if her response hadn't been enough reassurance. Hermione held back the urge to roll her eyes. "Yes, we can," she said, reaching up on her toes to give him one last chaste kiss.

Although a part of her wanted to stay there and let themselves get carried away again, she pulled away and glanced at the bathroom door. "I think Harry's had enough excitement for one day without seeing this."

"I hate when you're right," Ron said, his arms ever so slowly letting her go again. She smoothed down the front of his shirt to erase any crinkles she left behind, then turned to the clothes she had thrown on the bed. Ron helped her put them in her bag, and Harry emerged from the bathroom, his black hair sticking up at even odder angles than normal. "You can go next," Ron said as he handed her the pyjamas she'd chosen earlier.

"Thanks," she said. As she took them, she paused for a moment. They stared at each other, and she wondered if he was having the same sudden urge to kiss her goodbye as she was having for him. She shook it off first. It wasn't like she was going far, and he'd be right here when she got out. No need to be overly affectionate in front of Harry.

Once inside the bathroom, Hermione set down her things and accidentally caught sight of herself in the mirror. Not much of her reflection shocked her–she'd literally just come out of battle–so it wasn't the dark smudges of dirt or harsh red burn marks that grabbed her attention. It was her hair.

Hermione never cared much about the state of the curly mess that was her hair, usually just letting it run wild without her minding, but seeing her usually bushy locks hanging limp and deflated unsettled her. She didn't look like herself. Most of the ends were singed and a whole spot on the left had been burned black. Not to mention all the dust and debris caught in her curls. She didn't know where to start. This wasn't a mess she could simply wash out.

She rummaged in the cupboards, not sure if she'd find anything. Only Neville and Seamus would have been living in this dorm, and she doubted either one would've kept around a pair of scissors in the bathroom. Sure enough, all the drawers and cupboards were empty, but her eye caught something on the edge of the counter: Harry's wand.

He had been in a slight daze since defeating Voldemort, not that Hermione could blame him, but leaving behind his wand–the wand he'd just mended into working shape again–that was concerning even given the circumstances. It appeared he'd left behind his dirty clothes as well, so Hermione pushed away her worried thoughts and instead focused on the relief that she had a tool to deal with the mess of her hair.

Most of the burnt bits fell off as soon as she touched them. She wondered if she'd left behind any bits after her entanglement with Ron, and an embarrassed flush graced her cheeks. Not that it mattered. She chastised herself for being subconscious about such a thing after they'd survived a war and he'd lost a brother. There were much worse things to worry over.

She carefully muttered a cutting charm to remove all of the blackened or burned bits she could see. It was far from perfect and, when she was done, it looked arguably worse than before. Her entire head now looked lopsided, but at least her hair resembled someone simply having a bad haircut than someone escaping a fire.

After setting down Harry's wand and stripping out of her clothes, she turned the shower water on as hot as she could stand. The water ran black down the drain for the first couple minutes as she scrubbed off the grim and ash from her skin. Once she'd washed her hair, twice, she simply stood in the stream of the shower, the warmth soothing her sore body. She had only just started to feel recovered from Malfoy Manor before being thrown into the war again. Her body felt strained and exhausted and wanting nothing more than to soak in a hot bath and fall asleep.

She turned off the water and towel-dried herself. Facing the mirror again, she poked and pulled at her hair a few more times but knew she couldn't do much more. Eventually she would ask someone who knew what they were doing to cut it properly, but for now, she tied it up in a knot to hide the thin or missing chunks.

She slipped on the track bottoms and then the shirt, quickly realizing it wasn't hers. The ends of the sleeves hang past her fingertips and the hem brushed just below her bum. A quick whiff of the collar was all Hermione needed to confirm that the shirt was Ron's, an old practice Quidditch jersey by the looks of it. If she breathed in deep enough, she swore she could smell the fresh-cut grass of the pitch.

The dorm room was lighter than when she had left, the morning sun shining through the windows. Hermione made her way to her bed with her (and Harry's) old clothes in hand, but when she turned to Ron to tell him she was done, she saw he'd fallen asleep. He'd at least changed into his clean pyjamas before doing so, and Hermione added the clothes in her arms to the pile at the end of Ron's bed. She would deal with them tomorrow. Or later that day, she supposed. It was technically the morning.

Harry's bed already had the curtain drawn, and she could hear his deep breathing coming from behind it. She set his wand on the nightstand beside the bed then followed his lead, climbing into her own bed and shutting out the light of the day.

She thought she would have at least a little trouble getting to sleep, but with the muffled sound of both of her boys' deep breaths, Hermione found it shocking that she had no trouble at all. Or she would have if she'd been conscious long enough to contemplate it. Instead, falling asleep really felt like falling. Her head hit the pillow, and her brain flew down into the deep darkness of her subconscious.

Her thoughts drifted unconnected around her: a statue crumbling, a giant chessboard, a chorus of howls, a breeze from the sea, a kiss, a dead body. Mostly there was blackness. But somewhere deep in the abyss, she could hear a voice yelling in anger. It started faint then grew closer and closer until it chased all of her other memories away and left her alone in the darkness with only the voice.

"_What else did you take? What else have you got? Tell me the truth or, I swear, I shall run you through with this knife!"_

Pain that she would never be able to fully described radiated throughout her entire body. Every single one of her muscles cramped and folded her body into herself, trying to shield itself from the curse. There was no escape, though. It ended just long enough for her to whimper out a reply.

"_Nothing. We have nothing." _

"_Lies."_

The fire inside her flared again, setting her bones aflame. The floor hurt to touch, but she buried closer to it, wanting to fall through it and disappear. Anything, anything to escape.

It hurt to breathe. It hurt to hold her breath. It hurt to move, and it hurt to stay still. It hurt to cry, it hurt to scream, it hurt to try to stay silent. It hurt to exist.

Hermione gasped as she sat up in bed, a scream at the back of her throat that didn't have enough air to get out. A bead of sweat slid down her forehead, the sensation of something against her body that didn't hurt bringing her back into her body. She shut her eyes, counting in her head as she took a breath, held it, and let it back out again slowly. It was a dream. It was a dream. It was a dream.

It wasn't a dream, though. It was a memory. Her lip quivered, and she brought her legs up to her chest, hugging them with shivering arms. The air was cold against her damp skin, feeling like a sprinkle of salt over a freshly healed wound. It didn't hurt, but she flinched away from it expecting it to.

Her heart raced, and though she had been unable to catch her breath a moment ago, her lungs panted for air now. The thick blankets against her skin became unbearable, so she flung them away and scrambled out from behind her curtain to escape the bed. Even the wood on the bottom of her feet felt too much, and she became painfully aware that no matter what she did or where she went, a part of her would always be touching something. How had that never bothered her before? Why didn't it occur to anyone else? Why hadn't someone fixed this problem already? What was wrong with everyone? What was wrong with her?

She closed her eyes again, covering them in her hands, and tried to concentrate on the ground beneath her feet. If she could ground herself, these spiralling thoughts would stop, or so the logical part of her mind told her. Instead of fearing the floor touching her, she embraced it, really felt it, reminded herself that it didn't hurt, that it was okay, that she was okay, and she was safe. The floor was sturdy, and she wasn't in danger, and Bellatrix Lestrange was dead.

Although still shaky, Hermione grappled some control over her body and mind again. The dorm came back into focus, and she dared a glance at the other two beds. Harry's curtains were still drawn, and Ron had turned in his sleep so his back faced her. She could hear his familiar snores.

Relief washed over her. At least she hadn't woken them up. She only hoped their dreams were much more peaceful than hers.

The idea of returning to bed and to that dark place inside her mind again stung to even contemplate. Hermione could barely even looked at the dishevelled mess she'd left behind. She crossed her arms around herself, stilling her shaking hands in the creases of her elbows, and headed for the door. She just needed a walk to get some space and some air, and then she'd be alright. She had to be.

Once in the common room, she headed towards the nearest window, looking to the sky to tell her what time it was. The sun still hung low, so it couldn't have been past nine o'clock. She must have only been asleep for maybe two hours, possibly less. She'd expected to sleep till late in the afternoon.

People milled about the grounds, a few already repairing some of the damage to the castle. The air had cleared itself of the smoke and dust that had put a haze over the area, but a heaviness still hung around. Everyone's shoulders were weighed down by the death and destruction surrounding them, and they moved slowly through the debris. Hermione wondered how long it would take them all to stand straight again.

The portrait hole opened. Hermione jumped around to face it, her hand reaching for a wand that wasn't there. She'd already taken stock of every object she could throw at the stranger when Charlie Weasley appeared through the hole.

"Oh, Hermione, good, I've found you," he said as he came into the common room, giving Hermione's heart a minute to slow to a normal pace again. "Ron and Harry with you?"

"They're asleep upstairs." Her voice sounded like a stranger's to her ears, filled with much more confidence than she was feeling. The easy task of answering a simple question with the right answer was a thin veil over her vulnerability, a silk cloth covering an exposed bone.

"Good. They could use it," Charlie said. He glanced at the staircase and unconsciously rolled one his shoulders to stretch. The gesture unsettled Hermione, having seen Ron do the same movement in the exact same manner many times before. Hermione briefly wondered if it was a Quidditch player habit or a Weasley quirk. "Well," Charlie said, breaking off Hermione's train of thought, "Dad and Percy have taken Mum and George back to Aunt Muriel's for now. Bill's at the Burrow, making it secure again, and I'll be helping him soon. Fleur's making arrangements." He mumbled the last part, and Hermione didn't need to ask for clarification on what arrangements he meant.

"Ginny?" Hermione asked.

"Somewhere looking for you three as well. We split up, but I'll find her and let her know where you are. Dad wants her back at Muriel's, but I doubt she's going to go willingly." Charlie tried to smile jokingly, but as Ron had earlier, the expression didn't come out quite right. He sighed. "Anyway, we'll send word when the Burrow is safe. I think they all expect you three to be there tonight, but I won't be the one to rush you."

"We'll be there," Hermione said automatically. Where else would they go? It came down to the simple fact that the war was over, and they could all go back to their normal lives. Nothing was as normal as the Burrow. "I'll keep Ron and Harry from wandering off so you can find us here again when it's safe."

"Good plan." Charlie nodded and started to turn back towards the portrait before stopping and saying, "Thanks for keeping our baby brother safe. We all know you kept those two alive."

Hermione flushed, not feeling deserving of the praise. "Actually, I think they did a lot more for me than I did them. Especially Ron."

Charlie smile, small but genuine this time. "He can be terrifying capable at times, can't he? Suppose that's why we've always knocked his ego down whenever we could." He nodded his goodbye before climbing back out of the portrait, leaving Hermione wishing she could bottle up the pride she felt for Ron at his brother's words so he could experience it firsthand.

The conversation managed to chase away most of the shadows in her mind. Sleep still didn't feel like a possibility, but she felt that she could at least handle going back to bed and perhaps read a bit.

As she started up the spiral staircase, a pair of thunderous feet rushed down towards her. She didn't have time to move out of the way as Ron appeared from around the bend and crashed into her. "Shit, Hermione," he said as he grabbed her shoulders to steady her.

She rubbed her now aching nose and glared up at him. "Ron, what are you doing?"

"I was looking for you!" The grip he had on her arms tightened. "You can't just disappear like that."

"I didn't disappear," Hermione said, shaking off his hands. "I just needed a walk to clear my head and help me get back to sleep."

"Are you having trouble sleeping? Did you have another nightmare?" Ron reached for her again. "I can go right now and ask Madame Pomfrey for a Calming Draught–"

"Ron, stop." Hermione grabbed his approaching hand to stop it. "I'm fine. It's… just the daylight." The lie came to her quickly and stumbled a bit on the way out, not with her full permission. If she'd given the moment thought, she wouldn't have gone down the lying route, especially not with their relationship finally headed down a romantic path. But instant worry had jumped into his eyes as soon as she'd mentioned trouble sleeping. She didn't want him to worry. He'd already been there for her at Shell Cottage when she couldn't get through the night without a Calming and Sleeping Draught before bed. Now, it was her turn to be there for him.

"Are you sure?" Ron searched her face, and she fought against her natural reaction to look away and hide the lie on her face. That would surely give her away.

She held his gaze and nodded, taking hold of his hand in a much nicer way and let their hands fall together at their sides. "Yes, I'm sure."

Ron let out a breath of relief, his entire posture relaxing and bringing himself ever so slightly closer. "You scared me," he said, his other hand brushing hesitantly against her hip. She grabbed his wrist to press his palm firmly against her, holding on to his forearm and rubbing her thumb up and down against his skin. She enjoyed and appreciated this new distraction she could use, not only to move them away from the subject of her nightmares but also disrupting her anxious thoughts.

"I didn't mean to," she said, "and I didn't want to wake you."

"I thought something bad had happened." Ron resisted her attempts to distract him, though she supposed she couldn't blame him. If she'd woken up to his empty bed, she would've assumed the worst as well.

Before she could reassure him again, he pulled her closer, kissing the top of his head before locking her in a tight embrace. Their height difference was accentuated by the fact that Ron was stood on a step higher than her, so her head leaned more against his stomach than his chest. He folded over her, completely swallowing her up in his arms. Her arms encircled low on his waist, and she gave him a tight squeeze. Whatever leftover paranoia that had hung around from her nightmare shattered in his hug.

When Ron stood straight again and broke them apart just a little, Hermione leaned her chin against his middle and stared up at him. She brought around a hand to wipe off a smudge of dirt on his nose. "You should take a shower," she said. "Charlie came to the common room while I was down there. He said he and Bill were securing the Burrow and would let us know when it was safe to meet everyone there."

"Right," Ron said, a glazed look crossing his face. "Home."

Hermione left him alone with his thoughts for a moment, burying her head into his shirt again and taking in the quiet moment. In just a few hours, they would be back at the Burrow with most, if not all, of Ron's family plus Harry. Moments like this, she assumed, would be rare.

And at the back of her mind, her own home tugged at her brain–her childhood home that, under her spell, her parents had sold, and the box of all her things she'd had to stowaway shrunken and tossed about somewhere in the depths of her beaded bag. Not to mention, her parents. She'd have to deal with all of that soon.

"Come on," she said, no longer content being in her own thoughts and stepping back from their embrace. "You want to go back home clean, don't you?"

"Yes, I s'pose," he said, still seeming a bit unsure of returning to the Burrow, to a family missing one. She didn't need to ask what the hesitation was.

She took his hand and started to climb back up the stairs, but he stopped her before she got far. When she turned around, he put a hand under her chin to lift her face to his. Their height difference was lessened with her being a step above him, but he still had to bend down to kiss her. Their lips met only once, but after a heartbeat, they came together again. For an act they had struggled to achieve for years, it was impossible to stick to just one.

Hermione pulled away before they got too lost in each other again, tugging Ron up the stairs. She insisted on fishing out a fresh pair of pyjamas for him before he got a shower, and once the bathroom door closed, she also fished out a book for herself. She didn't care which one. She left her curtain slightly open to read by the daylight until she heard the shower turn off. By the time Ron came out, she'd shoved the book under her pillow and tucked her head into the blankets to hide her face. She took a few deep breaths for effect.

Once she heard Ron cross the room to return to his bed and his steady snores filled the room, she flopped over again. Her body ached for sleep, but she fought against it, memories of her nightmare making it impossible for her to sleep even if she tried. A single tear slipped out of her as she stared up into the canopy of the bed, wondering how far away normal was for her.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Thank you so so much for everyone who has followed, favorited, and reviewed this story so far! I am absolutely pissed at myself for missing my goal of uploading every other week. Literally hitting my head against a wall because I can't keep track of days passing. I had the chapter all ready to go too! Ugh! To try to make up for the delay and get back on track, I'll be uploading the chapter two next Tuesday, then I'll return to a biweekly schedule and actually stick to it this time. Hopefully I'll be able to figure at what day it is by then.

Anyways, don't have too much more to say about this chapter other than I hope you enjoyed it! Still ploughing through without a beta, so feel free to point out any mistakes. :) (But still looking for a beta if anyone is interested!)


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two: To Leave Behind The Past**

Ron gazed around the common room for what felt like the first time since he'd entered it his first day at Hogwarts. The fireplace and the chairs and the rugs and even the notice board. Everything looked like a memory.

He doubted he'd ever see any of it again.

"Ron, are you ready?" Hermione stood behind him at the portrait hole, the little beaded bag in her hand the only baggage between the three of them. There weren't any trunks to pack or bags slung over shoulders for the train ride home. It wasn't at all what Ron had imagined leaving Hogwarts for the last time would feel like.

Actually, that was a lie. It wasn't what he'd imagined because he'd already said goodbye to Hogwarts a year ago, knowing he wouldn't return. He'd thought it was the first of many goodbyes, but he never got the chance to properly say it to his family before he and Harry and Hermione left. That had bothered him more than anything. He'd worried over his family, needing to know they were safe and okay, because he knew he likely wouldn't be. He knew the odds, and he knew himself. He knew he'd probably die.

"Yeah, let's go." Ron took Hermione's offered hand, and they climbed through the portrait hole together. Harry, Charlie, and Bill stood waiting just outside. With a nod of his head to his brothers, the group set off.

"We'll be Apparating just down the road from home," Bill explained as they picked their way through the rubble, following paths that felt familiar but looked entirely different. "The wards we've got prevent anyone from Apparating inside, just to be safe, and we've disconnected from the Floo Network till the Ministry's back in order."

"Kingsley will get their shit together in no time," Charlie said.

"Kingsley?" Harry asked.

Bill nodded. "He's been named acting Minister. Thicknesse hasn't been seen or heard from since the battle ended. He's not one of the dead, though," he added.

"Not yet," Charlie muttered, plodding ahead of Bill on the staircase they were descending. Bill bristled as he passed.

"What does that mean?" Ron asked.

Bill sighed but conceded. "It's something we _all _agreed that you three didn't need to worry about it right now," he said pointedly, throwing Charlie a sharp look.

Charlie shrugged. "But everyone in the Order ought to be in the know, right?" All three of them nodded, and Bill begrudgingly also nodded his approval. "Well," Charlie said, "as you can expect, there's been quite a bit of chaos since the end of Voldemort. The entire Ministry is a wreck after being controlled by him for so long, so Kingsley's been struggling with a lack of manpower to deal with it. Even the Prophet can barely keep up with all the incidents. The DeathEaters aren't putting down their wands and coming quietly, as you can imagine. Pius Thicknesse isn't the only person missing at the moment."

"The Order's been helping out, though," Bill cut in a bit more optimistically. "Apparently, it's not so different from the end of the first war: a few weeks of chaos, a few weeks of trials, then everything will settle."

"What can we do to help?" Harry asked, barely letting Bill finish his thought.

"By getting yourselves to the Burrow," Bill said, putting on a voice that reminded Ron of their dad. "Kingsley doesn't want any of you out there in the open right now. You're too big of a target."

"Too big of a liability," Harry muttered to himself, his face clouding over with discontent.

Charlie overhead though. "To anyone you'd be fighting next to, yeah," he said. "If word got out you were out there in the streets, it'd give the DeathEaters a target. They might start trying to organize themselves again. Right now their scattered, confused, mostly alone. Makes them easier to deal with."

"They aren't creatures, Charlie," Bill said in an irritated tone Ron couldn't ever recall his eldest brother using towards Charlie before. The two of them always seemed exceptionally close. "We don't want to give them any hope."

"Hope for what?" Hermione asked.

"That they could keep going without Voldemort," Bill said, taking the lead again as they finally made it to the grand staircase, though it wasn't so grand-looking anymore. They had to pick their way around smashed steps and collapse bannisters.

"It's like a hydra," Charlie said, a bit softer this time and speaking only to Ron, Harry, and Hermione, though Bill rolled his eyes. "We've cut off the DeathEaters head, and now we've got to be quick to kill it before another one grows in its place."

"Before someone else tries to lead them," Bill said, cutting through Charlie's metaphor.

"Exactly," Charlie said, either not noticing Bill's shortness towards him or choosing to ignore it.

Harry held his wand in a white-knuckled grasp at his side. "There's got to be something I, er, we can do to help, though."

Bill stopped in his tracks, causing all four of them to stumble to an abrupt stop as well. "Harry," he said, putting a hand on his shoulder, "you killed Voldemort. No one else could do it, but you did. You've done enough."

Even though Bill took Harry's nod as acceptance, Ron could tell his best friend was still unsatisfied. He felt it too. As much as one part of him wanted nothing more than to finally go home and crawl into his familiar bed with a stomach full of his mother's cooking, another part itched to jump back into the fray. They had always been in the centre of the war, and if it wasn't truly over, it felt wrong staying out of it.

Then again, perhaps the part of him that wanted to jump back into the fight was only being fueled by the refreshed energy he hadn't had in months. He couldn't remember the last decent night of sleep he'd gotten. Not that he could really count the last night as 'good', but his worried brain only woke him about every other hour instead of the usual every half hour. He must have really needed the sleep.

Somehow, though, even that much sleep left him feeling guilty. Hermione's steps beside his were dragging and crooked, and he'd noticed the slight redness around her eyes before they'd left the dorm room. He really should have insisted on seeing Madame Pomfrey for a potion, but at the time, he'd wanted to believe Hermione so much so that he let himself be convinced not to. His relatively sound sleep weighed on him with each of Hermione's sluggish steps.

He'd been hopeful that Shell Cottage would be the end of it, not because he felt any sort of annoyance at bringing her comfort but because he hated seeing her so weak. She was one of the strongest people he knew and watching her relive the scariest moment of her life–the scariest moment of _his_ life–unnerved him. Every time, he wished he could do more.

The grounds at least were less depressing than the castle. No dust hung in the air, and all the fallen trees looked less out of place than crumbled walls. The open-air soothed the tension leftover from their conversation.

Ron still felt confused and perturbed by his eldest brothers' short tempers. He didn't have the energy to be angry over Fred's death. Maybe he just hadn't processed everything that had happened, but all he could really think about was being home again. In his head, he imagined walking into the same place he had left months ago, and only as they walked in silence did he realize that might not be the case.

"How'd the Burrow fair all by itself?" Ron asked, trying very hard to maintain a light lithe to his question. "Make it through all in one piece?"

Bill and Charlie exchanged a look that shredded Ron's hopes of returning to their normal lives so easily.

"Mostly one-piece, yeah," Charlie said with a shrug.

"It could have been much worse," Bill agreed, skipping out on specifics as well. "Most of the damage is superficial and easy to fix; Mum and Dad took all the important things with them when they went to Muriel's."

"Shame the ghoul didn't count as important," Charlie muttered.

Bill bristled and picked up his speed. "They didn't have time to be worrying about moving a ghoul, Charlie. Not to mention the fit Muriel would have thrown."

"Yes, keeping batty old Muriel in a fine mood is much more important than saving a creature from being blasted apart with the attic–"

"What happened to the attic?" Ron cut in.

"Exploded it seems," Charlie answered, his voice booming in the quiet air. "But don't worry, I mended the hole and cleaned up the guts. Buried the poor thing as properly as I could."

Bill huffed. "You can't skulk away, refusing any help, then martyr yourself."

"Would you two stop bickering already?" Ron said, his frustration finally getting the best of him. "You're going to drive the rest of us mad."

Thankfully, neither one of his brothers tried fighting against Ron's point, but they didn't apologize either. Instead, they both sunk into gruff silence again. Ron didn't dare try breaking the tension a second time.

Harry muttered under his breath, "Now you know how I felt for seven years," and chuckled quietly to himself.

"Can't hope they'll just kiss and make up though, right?" Ron replied with a smile. At least he could always count on Harry to be on his side, even if his cause was only to keep the mood as light as possible. Unfortunately, as he turned to Hermione to bring her into the joke, she gave a distracted smile as if she hadn't heard their bantering at all. Damn, he was worried about her. He reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze, soliciting a genuine smile from her this time.

Once the group had reached the gates and stepped outside of the reinstated wards, Bill finally spoke again to give them an Apparition point. "The crossroad at Kindle and Dawdle should do," he said. "Do you remember it, Harry?"

"Yeah, I've got it," Harry said, already pulling out his wand.

"Hermione?" Bill asked, turning to her.

"I can Side-Along," she said, taking a step closer to Ron.

"Are you sure?" Ron asked in quiet surprise. Hermione had been to the crossroad enough to get there on her own, and she wasn't exactly a witch her asked for help when she didn't absolutely need it.

Hermione could only respond with a quick nod as Bill had already moved on and was speaking again. "All good then. Let's stagger our timing so no one lands on each other or splinches someone." With that, he spun on the spot and disappeared with a snap. Charlie muttered under his breath–Ron only made out the word 'prat'–before also popping away.

Ron looked to Hermione, about to ask if she was ready, when he finally noticed that both of her hands were empty. "Where's your wand?"

Hermione's fist tightened around his hand. "_Our _wands are probably still somewhere in Malfoy Manor," she said. "_Bellatrix's _wand is stored in my bag until we can finally get it to the Ministry."

Guilt and nerves dried Ron's throat and dampened the back of his neck. Just as soon as he felt accomplished at being more sensitive, he went and said something stupid again. "Right, sorry, yeah," he said, afraid to say anything more and muck things up worse.

Harry had frozen with his wand in the air, looking to be contemplating whether he needed to say anything or not. "Go ahead," Ron said, waving him on and freeing him from any obligation to be comforting or insightful. His Apparition pop almost sounded relieved.

"I'm sorry," Ron said as Harry was gone. "I didn't mean to bring it up again–"

"It's fine," Hermione said before he could finish. "I didn't mean to snap at you. I just…" She sighed, leaning her head against his shoulder. "I think everything will be better once that wand is far, far away."

"Yeah," Ron said, a boyish hope sneaking into his mind. Perhaps the wand was like the Horcrux. Maybe once Hermione got away from it, the nightmares would stop just like how Ron realized how much of a terror he'd been once he'd gotten away from the locket. He could hope it would be that simple, right?

"Ready?" he asked, raising the wand he was now painfully aware wasn't his. Hermione nodded, and they stepped together, landing next to the crossroad sign. Bill and Harry stood on the other side of the dirt road that led to the Burrow, but Charlie had already started trudging up the first hill. From gravelled Kindle Lane, the walk home wasn't a far one along the dirt road of Dawdle, but it definitely wasn't a flat walk. Hermione lagged behind, Ron by her side and Harry only a few paces ahead. At least the late afternoon sun hid behind thick clouds and spared them its heat.

As they crested the final hill and the Burrow came into view, Ron expected to see the worst. However, from their distance, the house didn't look much different. He could see where part of the attic had, as Charlie said, been blasted away. There was a gash in the roof lined in black, and a wooden patch much paler than the surrounding structure covered up the missing segment of roof. The rest of the house's exterior looked untouched. Even the chicken coop still stood to one side, though there was no movement inside. A pile of wood and metal stood where his father's garage used to stand. He imagined the Death Eaters scandalized gasps walking in and facing piles and piles of Muggle objects. Imaging their terror almost made him smile.

Charlie went right to what was left of the garage, rolling up his sleeves and putting on a thick pair of gloves before grabbing a slab of wood. Seeing Charlie trudging through a hard labour task that could be done with the wave a wand wasn't an unfamiliar sight, but it had been a long time since Ron had witnessed it. He remembered being nine or ten, catching sight of Charlie hammering together a fence for the chicken coop or pulling up weeds in the garden with his bare hands and thinking how silly it was. He also remembered Bill's comment too: "Just stay out of his way and let him sweat out his mood." Ron had never had the urge to join Charlie before, but at that moment, focusing on a physical task and wearing himself out enough to not think about Fred sounded like a fine idea.

Ron, Hermione, and Harry passed by Charlie and headed inside after Bill. Though Ron hadn't given his homecoming much thought beyond surviving long enough to see it, he never expected it would start with him walking into a dead quiet and eerily tidy Burrow.

The living room, having always been a tight but cosy space, felt massive. The sofa was gone–Ron didn't even want to ask what had happened to it–and the armchairs were pushed against the wall. Where the sofa used to be were a pile of trunks, one of which Ron recognized as his own that he had taken to Hogwarts every year. Only one of the trunks was open and spilling over with old photographs and photo albums. He supposed this was all of the important things that Mum and Dad had taken with them to Aunt Muriel's. Four trunks seemed excessive and not enough all at the same time.

"Where is everyone?" Ron asked, not hearing any of the usual shufflings in the kitchen or footsteps upstairs.

"Mum and Dad are still with Muriel. No one thought Mum should see this place like it was," Bill said, taking the topmost picture from the trunk and placing it on the fireplace mantle. It was their photo from Egypt, a trip that felt like a dream Ron would have loved to travel back to.

Bill paused, staring at the photo a moment more before stepping back. "The Death Eaters seemed to have enjoyed mucking up the place. We've been salvaging what we can all day. Well, Fleur and Ginny have. Charlie's been checking and mending the structure– we're lucky the whole place didn't just topple over. Percy's with George at the Wheezes flat for now, but he's promised to get them both here for dinner." Bill's voice lost its confidence in the last sentence, fading out unsurely.

As if snapping into another mode, he added, "And I've been going back and forth between the Ministry and Gringotts for most of the day. They've refused to open their doors since a certain break-in." He gave them a pointed a look that all three of them avoided.

"Sorry about that," Harry mumbled. "It was sort of inevitable for our mission."

"I don't disbelieve that," Bill said. "The goblins, however, have needed some convincing. And apparently a new dragon."

"No!" Hermione said, the distress in her voice making all three boys jump. "That dragon was being kept in the most inhumane conditions. They can't be allowed to do that to another one!"

Bill didn't seem at all convinced, and in fact looked weary, as if he'd already heard that argument a hundred times. With Charlie around, he probably had. "Negotiations are still pending," he said in a diplomatic tone. "Goblins aren't easy to make deals with, as you should know. Not to mention that Voldemort murdering nearly a dozen goblins after finding out about the break-in hasn't helped us win them over."

"Shouldn't they be on our side then?" Harry asked. "Can't they see we needed to break in to kill Voldemort?"

"Goblins don't differentiate between good and dark wizards," Bill said, taking a seat on one of the armchairs and landing hard with a sigh. "As far as they're concerned, we're all one and the same. Gaining their trust takes a hell of a lot of convincing and often a sign of good faith."

"Like the Sword of Gryffindor." All eyes in the room swung to Harry as he stared down at the table with a furrowed brow as he spoke. "We promised to give the sword to Griphook–to all the goblins, really–if he helped us break into Gringotts. I supposed the promise died with him, but he told us what the sword meant to goblins and how important it was to them. If what Griphook said was true, it'd be a pretty good peace offering."

Bill raised an eyebrow. "Harry, you can't exactly go around giving away the Sword of Gryffindor."

"Actually, it's technically mine to give away." Bill's brow furrowed in confusion, so Harry sat down on the armchair next to him and explained how Dumbledore had willed the sword to him after his death.

Bill paused in consideration, absentmindedly rubbing his hand along the scars on his face. "The goblins would have a hard time saying no to an offer of that magnitude."

"But won't it just disappear again?" Ron asked, stepping into the conversation. "The sword's reappeared in the Sorting Hat twice now, that we know of. What happens when a Gryffindor needs it and it goes missing?"

All three of them exchanged a look before Harry said, "Let's hope no one needs it for a very long time."

"I think it's a great plan," Hermione said, stepping in beside Ron. Talking about dragons and goblins seemed to have ignited her energy again. "They've been oppressed for years. If Kingsley presented the sword with Harry, it could open so many doors for Ministry and Gringotts cooperation. It could completely change the relationship between wizards and goblins."

"I wouldn't be too hopeful," Bill said, "but I do agree it would be a step in the right direction. I'll send the idea to Kingsley, see what he makes of it."

Ron couldn't put into words why he felt such satisfaction as the conversation concluded and Bill got up to find a piece of parchment and a quill. He could feel his heart slowing down again, coming off the rush of discussing a problem and forming a plan. It reminded him of their time on the run: every hurriedly-made plan and strategic discussion. Handing a sword to a bunch of goblins wasn't nearly as adrenaline-inducing as sneaking into the Ministry or breaking into Gringotts, but it still felt good to do again after their couple hours of rest. None of them were used to having such a long period of time not worrying about their next move or their survival. Even preparing to return to the Burrow had been a restless affair full of mindless pacing and quadruple checking they had all their things. Perhaps returning to normal life wouldn't be quite the welcomed reprieve Ron thought it would be.

"Bill?" a familiar voice called from the kitchen as the back door swung shut. Fleur floated in, her blue cloak fluttering behind her. "I knew I 'eard voices in here." Fleur took Ron by the shoulders, kissed both his cheeks, pulled him into a hug, then let go to give the same treatment to both Hermione and Harry before Ron could really react. He didn't know when it had changed, but Fleur's presence brought a maternal comfort that was the opposite of the flustering that her Veela powers used to bring out in him. In fact, his hand impulsively grabbed Hermione's as she looked much more taken aback by the embrace.

"We were just discussing Gringotts," Bill said as Fleur reached him. "Harry's had an idea that could solve everything."

"I told you ze answer would come to you," she said, kissing the side of his head before turning to the other three. "I have just been to ze shop in ze village to buy food to make a proper meal for everyone. We can all eat together again." She smiled at them. "You can settle into your rooms for now. Everything has been cleaned and put away."

"Thanks for that, love," Bill said, but Fleur waved away the gratitude.

"For family, thanks is not needed," she said as she disappeared into the kitchen again, Bill following behind with quill and parchment in hand.

Ron glanced around the living room, not sure he wanted to leave just yet. Everything felt so normal yet abnormal at the same time. It didn't feel right for him to just come home after everything, but the Burrow didn't feel like home. There were too many bare surfaces where useless knick-knacks should be and a larger portion of the floor than he'd ever seen before. The house felt gutted.

"We should at least start unpacking," Hermione suggested, tugging at his hand and snapping him out of his thoughts. "We've got a lot to sort through."

Ron nodded, turning towards the stairs when he spotted a furry blur dart down the steps and brush past his feet. He cursed at the same time Hermione shouted, "Crookshanks!" The moving furball leapt into Hermione's arms, purring with vigour as he jammed his head under her chin.

"Where did he even–" Ron started to say but was cut off by a sudden whistling sound that zoomed right next to his ear. He tried to bat off his tiny attacker, only catching glimpses of feathers as he spun around. The movement was familiar enough to cause him to pause. "Pig?" he said. The little owl hooted as it circled his head once more before crash landing in his hair.

After finally being able to grab Pig and put him on his shoulder like a relatively normal bird, Ron noticed the shadow on the staircase slowly floating down towards them. "You're back," Ginny said, pausing on the last step. Ron couldn't remember the last time he'd heard her voice so faint. This wasn't the little sister that bounded around Hogwarts with her hair up and broom in hand or even the one fighting with their mother in the corridor, refusing to run from battle. Her hair hung heavy around her pale face, her body dwarfed inside one of Charlie's old shirts. She looked eleven again.

"Yeah," Ron said, the word barely out of his mouth before Ginny rushed down the remaining stairs and hugged him. Disrupted from his perch, Pig returned to his fluttering circles while Ron took a moment to react then hugged his sister close. When he first saw Bill and Charlie earlier, he'd done the same thing. He wondered how long it would be before seeing one of his siblings wouldn't be a relief anymore.

"I've missed you guys," she said, pulling free from Ron to embrace Hermione as well. Crookshanks mewed from the floor, displeased at being dropped to the ground. Ginny pat him on the head. "I was just taking Crookshanks out to help me degnome the garden. They've all put set up their own town back there."

Her eyes moved from Ron and Hermione to Harry standing behind them. There was a heavy pause as their eyes found each other, and Ron braced for whatever obscenely affectionate reunion would ensue. But they both hesitated just a heartbeat too long, and the moment passed.

"Do you want some help?" Hermione asked, wading into the tension.

"I'm sure you three have better things to do," Ginny said, stepping back into the shadow of the staircase.

"At least take Crookshanks with you," Hermione offered, scrooping up the cat and handing him out to Ginny. "It's the least he owes you for taking care of him all year."

Ginny pushed Crookshanks back into Hermione's arms. "Don't worry about it. I can handle a few gnomes on my own."

"I can help," Harry burst out, looking surprised at himself. "If you won't take Crookshanks."

A ghost of a smile tugged at Ginny's lips. "Alright," she said.

Another pause hung in the air, and Ron glanced between the two of them, thinking this would surely be the moment. Instead, Ginny walked between him and Hermione, Pig and Harry following behind.

Ron stared after them once they had gone into the kitchen, two parts of himself fighting over what to do. The brotherly half of him wanted to follow and spy and jump out if Harry so much as brushed her hand. The other half was winning, bringing up memories of their sixth year and how oddly nice it had been being around Harry and Ginny as a couple. He couldn't think of anyone he'd rather either of them end up with, just so long as he didn't think too long about them being together.

"We should probably leave them to it then," Hermione said.

And there was the third part of him, the one that overwhelmed the other two. Watching Hermione hugging Crookshanks and staring up at him, he wanted to kiss her. It wasn't a new urge, but knowing he could was definitely new. He still wasn't sure how to handle it. His feelings for Hermione came in two parts as well. One wanted to run with it and act on every instinct that told him to kiss her or hug her or touch her in any way. The other held him back instinctively. He'd trained himself to push away those feelings for years, either not wanting to accept them or thinking it wasn't the right time to act on them. He had put in a lot of work to get here–he read and studied an entire book for her–but he didn't know how to cope with success. That part of him was still waiting to be told he'd been fooled and none of this was real. He needed to think through every action.

He followed her up the stairs to his room, tripping over himself in surprise when he walked in. Unlike the rest of the Burrow, his room looked the same. All of his Canons posters still hung on the wall, and his bed and bookshelf were still in one piece. In fact, the whole place looked tidier than he'd kept it in years. Not only was his own bed made, but a cot for Harry had already been set up and made as well. Either the Death Eaters had been too preoccupied with the ghoul in the attic to tear apart his room or Fleur was that masterful at cleaning spells.

Emotions he'd been pushing to the side bubbled up through his defences as he glanced around his room. For the first time, being home felt like going back in time with one key missing piece. Fred should be here.

He sunk down on his bed, the old springs squeaking. Hermione set her beaded bag on top of his dresser, stepping back with an unburdening sigh. They were putting down their weapons and taking off their armour, and the crushing weight of that transition fell down on him. These were the moments that would mark their life after the war. And their life after Fred.

"Ron?" He hadn't noticed Hermione move towards him, but she stooped down to look at his face. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he said, rubbing the back of his neck to ground himself again. "I just… I already miss him."

Hermione took his hand as she sat next to him, pulling close until his head drifted down to rest on her shoulder. She rubbed small circles against his back that were both comforting and uncomfortable. He had held and soothed her enough times that the switch felt odd but also exactly what he needed. Although he'd run out of tears yesterday when the pain of losing Fred had been fresh, he felt like he might've cried if he could.

They stayed like that for a while. When muffled shouts drifted in through his open window, Ron opened his eyes and realized he had lost track of time passing. He instinctively tightened his grip on Hermione's hand as he straightened, his other reaching for his wand. He exchanged a silent look with Hermione before getting up and approaching the window, keeping her behind him.

"What's going on?" Hermione asked when he stilled in front of the window and didn't say anything.

"I think Harry and Ginny are… fighting."

Below in the back garden, Ginny had Harry backing up as she yelled at him. Her words were muffled, but Ron could tell by the shrillness in her voice he had really pissed her off. "I don't think I've ever seen them fight," he said.

"I wouldn't call that a fight," Hermione said as she stepped next to him to gaze out at the scene as well. Ginny gave Harry's chest a rather violent poke. "It looks pretty one-sided to me."

"He probably deserves it." Hermione swatted at his arm but didn't disagree. They'd both called him a self-sacrificing idiot, even if it had all worked out in the end.

Hermione tugged at his arm. "We shouldn't be spying on them."

"We're not spying," he said, unable to look away. "I'm watching over my little sister. It's my right as an older brother to–oi! OI!" Ron nearly hit his head on the windowpane in his rush to stick his head out. Ginny's verbal attack on Harry had quickly turned into a snogging attack, and he definitely preferred the former. "What're think you're doing?" he shouted down at them.

They both looked around in confusion, Ginny being the first to look up and shield her eyes from the setting sun to see him. "What do you think _you're _doing?"

"I'd like to be able to look out my own window without seeing all that!" he yelled back, ignoring her question.

"No one asked you to watch!"

"You're kind've hard to miss!"

"What's with all the shouting?" Bill's voice easily carried up to the window before he came into Ron's view. "Mum and Dad will be here soon, so can we stop yelling at each other before they get here?"

Ginny shrugged and muttered something that Ron couldn't here. Whatever it was, it swayed Bill to go back inside. Ron had the feeling he'd get a talk from Bill later about how he'd started it. Then Ginny whispered something to Harry and pulled him away towards the side of the house where Ron wouldn't be able to see.

Ron slammed his window shut, having half a mind to march downstairs and find wherever those two had snuck off to. Then again, he really didn't want to see that. "Gits," he muttered. "He better not do anything to her hurt her again."

Hermione shook her head at him. "You knew they hadn't really broken up, right?" she asked. "I mean, he did, but only because he thought he had to. This was inevitable."

"Yeah, but…" He couldn't find a good argument for why they shouldn't be together, but he still felt entitled to be a little grossed out about it. "I've got to share a room with my sister's boyfriend," he said, motioning towards the cot where Harry would be sleeping. "It's weird for me, alright?"

"Of course it's a little weird," Hermione said with a shrug. "But she'll be sharing a room with her brother's girlfriend too, so…"

As she drew out the last word, what she said hit them both at the same time. It had been only about a day, so there hadn't been any time to sort out the label they were putting on themselves. It didn't feel wrong, though. Or too soon. Actually, it felt like a long time coming.

"So…" Ron said as he tried to think of some way to agree that wouldn't come off childish or awkward. "Yeah."

"Yeah?" Hermione asked. He knew she might have just been repeating and questioning his response, but he didn't think that was what she was asking.

"Yeah," he said with much more conviction, hoping it answered her unspoken question. With the way she smiled at him, he knew he got it right. Filled with confidence, Ron stepped forward and kissed her, for once not worrying about whether it was a good time or about someone coming in and seeing them. He let his instincts take control, and if Bill hadn't called up the stairs to announce dinner, Ron didn't think he ever would have stopped.

* * *

**Author's Note: **As promised, the next chapter! Delving into Ron's perspective for this one, so I hope you enjoyed the change of pace. Also hope you liked this bit of fluff at the end because it's pretty sparse in the next couple chapters. :)

A HUGE thank you to everyone who has followed, favourited, and especially reviewed this story so far. Every single one of you are amazing and warm my heart with your kind words. The next chapter will be posted in two weeks. See you then!


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three: To Grieve With Others**

Hermione hadn't felt like this much of an outsider since her first year at Hogwarts. The Weasleys had always done their best to make her and Harry feel like part of the family, but in the wake of Fred's death, they simply couldn't share the grief in the same way.

Just as she and Ron had gone into the kitchen and began helping Fleur set the table in the exact fashion she wanted, George and Percy arrived. Ron and Bill wasted no time embracing their brothers, silent except for the soft clapping as they patted each other's backs. A moment later, Ginny flew in from the back door, running to George and hugging him tightly.

Hermione stood with Fleur at the other end of the kitchen, the older witch busying herself with straightening the silverware on the table. Harry popped in after Ginny, slightly out of breath as he glanced around and found his place next to Hermione. They exchanged a knowing glance, both of them wishing they could do more than stand by and watch but knowing it was the best thing they could do.

Of course, eventually, George and Percy made their way to Harry, Hermione, and Fleur exchanging quicker but still comforting hugs. Hermione didn't know what she expected of George, but though he drifted around in a lost manner, he at least seemed able to put on a good front for everyone.

They milled around for a few minutes, exchanging half-hearted pleasantries while they watched the doorway of the living room for any sign of Mr and Mrs Weasley. When it seemed that perhaps they weren't going to show and Fleur tried to discreetly cast a warming spell on the soup and bread she had made, they heard the front door creak open.

"Oh," Mrs Weasley said incoherently before running to her nearest child and enveloping George in an embrace. They all took their turn in Mrs Weasley's arms, hearing her spluttering words as she squeezed them close.

Eventually, they all sat around the table, close enough together that they brushed arms as they ate. It was the quietest meal Hermione had ever experienced at the Burrow, the only consistent sound being Mrs Weasley's sniffles at the head of the table. Mr Weasley periodically rubbed her shoulder, fending off her more distressed sputters. Only a few minutes had passed, though, before Mrs Weasley's quiet tears built into a whimpering cry. Mr Weasley reacted fast, taking her by the shoulders and suggesting she go to bed.

George stood up as soon as his parents had left the kitchen, not making any excuses as he hurried out the back door, his soup barely touched.

Percy gave a heavy sigh, sinking lower in his chair. "Well, at least we tried," he said to Bill, making Hermione feel that perhaps she had missed some sort of plan between them.

"Can't blame them," Bill said. "We're all just doing our best to get by." He summoned a container from the cabinet and twirled his wand over George's nearly full bowl so the soup flowed through the air into the bowl. He closed the lid as Percy stood and handed him the container. "Make sure he eats, alright?"

"I'll try." Percy took the food and followed George's path.

Though the kitchen had fewer people, the room felt more crowded by the sadness and loss emitting strongly from everyone. The Weasley family often felt like a well-constructed machine, each of them moving like synchronized cogs, but with one piece missing, they crunched against each other or completely missed the spot where they were supposed to connect.

No one took an interest in their food again after that, settling to cleaning up instead. They worked quietly until Mr Weasley came in again and announced, "I'll put the kettle on."

They all settled around the table again. The tea kettle must have been magicked because it only took about two seconds to whistle. Mr Weasley waved his wand and half a dozen mugs flew in from the living room and settled in front of them. The kettle bobbed around the table, filling their cups, followed by milk and sugar and, to Hermione's surprise, a phial of Calming Draught. Charlie and Bill both poured healthy doses into their cups, and after Fleur passed it to Ginny, she and Harry also topped off their drinks. Once it was in her hand, she could feel Ron's eyes on her.

She knew she should. Though it had only started to get dark, everyone would be having an early night, and if she didn't want to be plagued by her nightmares again, all she had to do was take this potion. It should have been as easy as taking the potions Madame Pomfrey gave her after the Department of Mysteries, but it wasn't. They had escaped Malfoy Manor over a month ago; she shouldn't still need it.

If Harry hadn't taken some first, Hermione would have found a way around it, but she felt some solidarity that someone else who hadn't just lost a sibling was accepting the draught. She wouldn't stick out. Still, she only added a splash to her tea.

As she handed the phial off to Ron, he held it in her hand a moment longer, pushing towards her cup again. She held her hand firm, refusing his silent suggestion. Though hesitant, he backed off and added a similar amount to his own cup before handing it back to his father.

Mr Weasley capped it and set it down on the table, within easy of all of them. He took a deep sip of his tea, allowing everyone else to the same, then cleared his throat. "The funeral is set for tomorrow," he said, directing the information towards Ron, Hermione, and Harry. Hermione remembered Charlie mentioning Fleur had been taking care of the arrangements while the Weasleys found their footing again, but hearing the word 'funeral' felt like being hit with a Stunning Spell. It hit doubly hard being of such short notice. There wasn't any point in putting it off, she supposed.

"Right," Ron said, growing a shade paler but overall taking the information in calmly. She took his hand underneath the table. "What's the plan?"

A flinch shuddered through the table at Ron's blunt response, but Mr Weasley seemed to appreciate the opportunity to charge through the discomfort and pain to explain the details. "He'll be buried in the family cemetery next to Fabian and Gideon. We've only invited those we really thought should be there so the ceremony should be small and short. Perhaps one day we'll have a proper celebration of his life, something to truly honour his memory, but some time will have to pass before we all are ready for that."

"When George is ready, I'm sure he'll take the lead," Bill said.

"Yes," Mr Weasley replied, his tone sounding more hopeful than convinced though. "But for now, we'll have this. It will be at eleven, is that correct?" He directed his question at Fleur who nodded.

"The carriages will arrive 'ere at quarter till," she said, not expanding anymore on what sort of carriages would be arriving. Hermione couldn't help but imagine the Beaubaton's carriages that had brought the French students to Hogwarts for the Triwizard Tournament. Something that grand felt unfitting for the Weasleys. "And there will be a refreshment tent set up for after the funeral."

Another shudder reverberated through the table at the word, though less extreme than before. "Thank you, my dear," Mr Weasley said. "You've taken a great burden from us."

"For family, thanks is not needed," Fleur said, repeating the same words she had said to Bill earlier, but this time it fell flatter. Hermione didn't know if it was just her imagination at hearing the same phrase twice or if Fleur had lost her conviction in the words or if it felt off because what Mr Weasley was thanking her for was for _not_ being part of the family. She'd taken a great burden that fell slightly lighter on her shoulders. Maybe Hermione was simply projecting.

They all sipped their teas in silence for a moment before Mr Weasley excused himself to check on Mrs Weasley. "We should go too," Bill said, draining his cup than standing as well. It couldn't be past eight o'clock, but the Calming Draught was kicking in. Without adrenaline and anxiety, only exhaustion remained.

After muttered 'goodnight's, Bill and Fleur left the Burrow and Charlie and Mr Weasley headed upstairs, leaving Hermione, Ron, Harry, and Ginny at the table nursing their last few drops of tea.

No one said anything for a long while. Hermione's nerves started to settle for the first time since sitting down for dinner, maybe because the room was less crowded and tense or maybe it was just the potion. Either way, she let her shoulders relax and her elbow brush against Ron's. Without all this talk about funerals and war, Hermione could feel the future and past pressing in, times when this hurt didn't exist yet and times when it would be healed. If she closed her eyes, she could leave the present for a moment. Just a moment.

"Hermione." Ginny's voice dragged her out of the momentary reprieve, jolting her back to reality. She leaned forward to look past Harry to the younger witch. "I didn't want to say anything in front of everyone, but… can you please let me cut your hair?"

Hermione reached a hand up to her hair, having completely forgotten the mess she'd left it in earlier that day. The shorter strands she'd cut had fallen from the bun that now sat much lower on her head than where it had started. Her cheeks went pink, embarrassed that she'd probably gone through the entire dinner looking a wreck, piled on by the fact that she was pretty sure it had been Ron's hands that had loosened the knot in the first place.

"What're you mean?" Ron asked, leaning forward to look at Hermione as she tried to hide the worst of it behind her hand.

Ron wasn't quite tactful enough to lie, but he also wasn't unobservant enough to not have at least noticed the blackened ends of her hair. "I cut out the worst burned bits. I wasn't trying to do a perfect job."

"Well don't expect a perfect job from me either," Ginny said as she got up from the table and started rummaging through one of the kitchen drawers. "But I can at least even it out."

Hermione reluctantly agreed, grateful for Ginny's help but not especially thrilled at being the centre of attention. There were so much more important things to focus on than the state of her hair, but then again, wasn't that the point of the end of the war? That now they could focus on the little things?

Ginny dragged out a chair from the table, motioned for Hermione to switch seats, then filled an empty bowl with water. After she'd Summoned a comb (brushing off Hermione's disapproving look by commenting that the Ministry was probably a little too busy right now to be concerned about underage magic), Ginny set to work, dampening Hermione's hair first and combing it straight with her fingers. "I'm going to have to cut off a lot," Ginny said as she worked the water into Hermione curls. "This is your final chance to stop me."

"Go on." Hermione felt surprised at how easy the words came out. She had never particularly enjoyed her hair, but for as long as she could remember, it had always been a large bush she could hide behind. But as Ginny began taking off the ends, her hesitation drained away. She had enough heaviness in her heart without needing the extra weight of her hair.

After a few snips, Ginny broke through the silence that had fallen. "This is going to take more than a few seconds, you know." Hermione thought at first Ginny was directing her slight annoyance to her, then realized Ginny was talking to the boys. Well, Harry mostly. "Seems like you've got plenty of time to start filling me in."

Hermione and Ron both looked over at Harry with raised eyebrows. Not that Hermione was all that surprised that Harry had made a promise to Ginny to tell her everything that had happened in the past few months. Harry hesitated, looking around the room for an excuse before Ron said, "Might as well, mate."

Harry sighed. "Alright then."

He started with the Horcruxes, leaving out the diary for the moment and lumping it in with 'things Dumbledore had already taken care of.' Then he jumped right into hiding in Grimmauld Place after Bill and Fleur's wedding. He kept his version of events brief, jumping from event to event like they had happened days apart instead of months. His words stumbled when he reached the time he and Hermione had spent alone together, his motivation slowing more and more as he brought up Godric's Hollow and Malfoy Manor and breaking into Gringotts. Then he rushed through their talk with Aberforth and going into Hogwarts with Neville, ending the sad excuse for a story by shrugging and saying, "And the rest you know."

"You really know how to tell a story," Ginny said with a teasing smile.

"Well let's see you tell a better one," Ron said. "What happened at Hogwarts while we were away saving the world?"

"We were surviving." Ginny's tone cut through Ron's challenging stare and guilted him into staring at the floor. "It didn't feel like Hogwarts anymore, not with the Carrows around."

Harry nodded, his eyes also on the ground. "That's what Neville said."

"It was his idea to resurrect the DA. He proved to be an excellent teacher. Taught me a lot about Healing, actually. I mean, we all had to learn how to take care of ourselves after the Carrows banned Madame Pomfrey from healing any detention wounds. You know, so we could learn our lesson."

"Bastards," Ron muttered, kicking the table leg.

"It'd done now." Ginny shrugged, fluffing out Hermione's hair one last time. "And so is your hair, to the best of my abilities." She set down her scissors and grabbed her wand. Hermione watched over her shoulder as Ginny grabbed a broom and dustpan from the pantry that started sweeping up the clumps of hair as soon as Ginny set them down. "It's even at least," she said as she brushed off Hermione's shoulders.

"Thanks." Hermione smiled at Ginny, feeling so much happiness to have her as a friend. When Hermione spun in circles of thought, Ginny got things done. She loved that about her. "I'm sure you've done an amazing job."

"Hold your judgement till you look in a mirror. I won't be made if you tell me you hate." Ginny returned Hermione's smile with a playful grin before chasing after the broom and dustpan as they started cleaning the entire kitchen floor. While Ginny shooed them back into the pantry, Hermione glanced up at Ron, making eye contact for the first time since Ginny brought out the scissors.

His blank face tugged up into a crooked grin, heating her cheeks. She had always gotten satisfaction whenever she felt his eyes on her like this, a little piece of proof that maybe he fancied her too, but a new feeling crept up now. An almost nervous feeling. Before, no matter how many times he looked at her, she never expected much. She hoped, but she didn't count on it happening. Now all she could think about, with this new cut, was if it would feel different the next time he ran his fingers through her hair.

Ginny yawned loudly as she closed the pantry door, reminding Hermione that there were other people in the room. Harry, whose gaze had drifted down to his teacup as he swirled around whatever remnants were left, glanced up and said, "I suppose this is the time normal people would go to bed."

"Since when are any of us normal?" Ginny scoffed, though she stifled another yawn at the same time. She leaned against the table, staring down the phial still standing in the centre. "Must be the Calming Draught."

Hermione nodded subconsciously, stopping herself as soon as she realized what she was doing. She loved having the right answer but also didn't want to admit her experience with the potion. Glancing around, it seemed that only Ron may have noticed.

"Probably should try to get some sleep before tomorrow," Harry said, standing from the table and gathering up everyone's teacups to set them in the sink.

"Yeah," Ron said, though he made no move to leave. Hermione didn't either. Despite exhaustion tugging at her body, going to bed and tempting the nightmares scared her enough to keep her awake.

Ginny huffed then took Harry by the arm and started dragging him away towards the living room. "Well if the two of you are staying here, I'm going to take Harry and say goodnight properly."

"Properly?" both Harry and Ron said at the same time with similarly shocked faces.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Yes, because _that's _exactly what I meant. The way you two jump to conclusions together, it really is a good thing you've always had Hermione around to set you straight. Goodnight!" she called over her shoulder as she and Harry disappeared through the doorway.

Ron stared after them with squinted eyes, his jaw clenching in a way Hermione knew meant he'd be storming after them in a few seconds. She pulled her chair forward to sit next to him again and nudged his shoulder. His attention returned to her, and the distrustful glare he'd sent after Harry and Ginny softened as he looked at her. Within touching distance again, the smiles they exchanged were much more shy. "I like it," he said as he reached his hand up to her hair. "I mean, I liked it before, too, but this is different… nice…"

"Thanks," she said, taking his hand and saving him from struggling through his compliment. "I still haven't seen it."

"It looks good," he said, though he wasn't looking at her hair at all anymore. He leaned forward, keeping his gaze on hers until he would have gone cross-eyed.

Hermione forgot all about stalling going to bed and the uncomfortable itching at the back of her neck from the stray hairs. Instead, all she could concentrate on was the way Ron's fingertips grazed against neck instead as they kissed. She opened her mouth to him quickly, enjoying the distraction and not wanting it to end, but Ron pulled away before she could entice him into falling into the same bliss. He rubbed a thumb up her cheek, over the dark shadow beneath her eye. "We should go to bed."

Because she couldn't argue without giving away why, she nodded her head and let him pull her up out of her chair. They held hands up the stairs, hearing Ginny say "Goodnight, Harry!" loudly and pointedly as they approached. When they got to Ginny's room, the door was already closed, though Harry's hurrying footsteps could still be heard going up the next set of stairs. Ron's grip tensed in Hermione's, and she squeezed back.

"You'll have to get used to them being together," she said, even though she knew logic and reason might not be the best solution to Ron's overprotectiveness. "You've done it before."

He shrugged. "Yeah, but things were different at Hogwarts."

"Really? How?"

"I dunno, I guess… y'know it was before everything. Before he broke up with her."

Hermione sighed, feeling both affection for his caring heart and annoyance at his hesitation to accept a relationship she personally found perfect for the pair involved. She felt some pride for her part in getting them together, and she was not about to let them fail. "Ron, you know he only did what he thought he had to."

"I know, I know." Ron scrunched up his face as he waved away her comment. "And he knows if he ever does something like that again, best friend or not, I'll kill him."

"I think he knows that." Hermione took his other hand in hers, squeezing them both to hopefully transfer her confidence to him and subdue his worries. It at least seemed to distract as he pulled her hands around his waist and brought them closer together. She smiled up at him as his hands travelled up her arms then rested around her waist as well.

She clung to this moment, knowing as soon as one of them stepped away, she'd be forced to face the night. A sense of awkwardness hung around them as well. They'd fallen out of practice at saying goodnight. Even though they'd technically slept in different rooms at Shell Cottage, Ron snuck up to her room (with Luna's blessing, of course) and slept on a blanket on the floor. Most nights, the Calming Draught dragged her into sleep before he came up, but when the nightmares woke her in the middle of the night, he was always there. And now, having crossed that line from friendship to romance, saying goodbye for even a short time felt impossible.

"Well, goodnight," Ron said, loosening his grip first. "The Calming Draught is still on the table if you–"

"I'll be fine," Hermione interrupted.

Ron nodded. "Okay." He kissed her forehead before stepping back, their hands still connecting them as he started walking up the stairs.

"Goodnight," Hermione said just before their fingers finally slid apart. Ron gave her one last smile before turning to go up the steps to his room.

She listened for his disappearing footsteps while she leaned against the door. Ginny could probably hear everything behind the door, so Hermione knew she couldn't stay out there for long. Another tickle at the back of her neck inspired another idea to keep herself from having to try to go to sleep yet. She walked into the bedroom, Ginny giving her a knowing look from the corner as she closed her wardrobe. Hermione told her she was going to take a shower to get rid of all the little bits of hair that were sticking to her, gathered a pair of pyjamas, then left again to go to the bathroom.

Her reflection made her gasp.

The person in the mirror was nothing like the one she had always seen. Her curls hugged her face closer but they also stretched out from her head much more than before. The scar on her neck felt more exposed, but she didn't hate it. It was like a badge of honour, a proclamation that she had survived.

How was it that when she could see that mark so clearly in the light, she could feel pride, but as soon as she closed her eyes, the fear flooded in? How could one event be tied to two such opposite emotions?

She took a quick and efficient shower despite her best efforts. After drying and dressing, Hermione couldn't bring herself to return to Ginny's room. Maybe she should take her dirty clothes and towel to the scullery first. Then maybe, just maybe, she'd take another sip of the Calming Draught and be able to sleep.

It would be good for her. She knew that. Sleep was so important and getting more would probably help to keep her sane, but as she returned to the potion phial after dumping off her dirty laundry, she couldn't do it.

The rational part of herself came up with an easy excuse: potions like this, ones that messed with emotions, could be extremely addictive. She didn't want to have to start relying on any substance. But underneath that, there was another voice, a voice that told her every time she took a potion to escape that torturous event, Bellatrix won again and again.

Hermione walked out the back door, the air in the kitchen growing stuffy and uncomfortable. Her heart raced and chased away any sleepiness in her body. She wanted to run. Would that help?

Before she could come up with an answer, she spotted a shadow sitting in the garden, staring up at the sky. It took a moment for her to recognize the figure as Ron. She instantly felt like a child caught sneaking out of bed, guilt over avoiding his concerned questions puddling in her stomach. It quickly drained away as she started wondering what he was doing out here in the first place. Maybe she wasn't the only one having trouble sleeping.

She was reminded of their first nights at Shell Cottage. Hermione had woken up in the middle of the night, unable to fall back asleep. She'd snuck out of the room without waking Luna then tiptoed down to the living room in order not to wake the boys. Once outside, she'd gone out to the cliffside, finding a comfortable patch of grass to sit on and watch the waves. The sound of the sea soothed her, but she still shook.

Then Ron had appeared beside her. Not saying a word, he's put an arm around her and held her while she cried. At first, she'd been embarrassed and annoyed, wanting to be alone. Then she realized how warm and comforting his embrace was, and she'd buried her face into his chest.

Hermione cleared her throat as she walked up behind Ron, not wanting to scare him. He jumped a bit, but his shoulders sagged in relief as he saw her. She sat next to him on the ground, automatically taking his hand and resting her head against his shoulder. He laid his head against hers.

"Couldn't sleep?" he asked in a thick voice.

"Haven't tried," she said.

"Me neither." His hand and shoulders shook as he took a deep breath. A wet tear dropped from his cheek to her forehead. "I don't want tomorrow to come."

She held his hand tight, knowing she could never express in words how much she wished she could change what tomorrow would become and protect him from ever having felt this loss. Sometimes, there just weren't words.

* * *

**Author's Note: **And... I'm a couple of days late. Please forgive me! I'm never going to have a consistent upload schedule, am I? Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this slightly shorter than usual chapter. I know there's lots of sadness, but I tried to sneak in as much fluff as I could. :) As always, a huge thank you to everyone who has followed, faved, and reviewed this story. It means so much. I've been having a bit of writer's block lately on chapter seven, and I think this story might be a little longer than I anticipated. Maybe fifteen chapters rather than ten? I'm feeling a little daunted by it, especially as I reach a few certain scenes that inspired this entire thing. Feeling a lot of self-imposed pressure to get them right. Dunno why I felt like sharing that. It's late and I should go to bed. Love you all and see you in two weeks for the next chapter!


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four: To Say Farewell To Brothers**

Tomorrow arrived, bright and sunny and not at all reflecting the mood of those in the Burrow. Ron trudged down the stairs before nine o'clock, unable to justify laying in bed sleeplessly any longer. Despite only getting, at best, five hours of sleep, he didn't think his lack of rest was to blame for his sluggishness.

He entered an empty kitchen and paused in the doorway. His feet had taken him there out of habit, his brain not fully forming an expectation but still feeling disappointed when he got there. Guilt tugged at his growling belly. Did he really expect his mum to cook a full breakfast today of all days?

Merlin, he wasn't helpless. Fleur had stocked the kitchen well, and Ron set to work making a simple breakfast. At first, he planned on just making something small for himself, then he added some eggs for his mum, then some more for Hermione, then a few more Harry and Ginny and his dad and Charlie and everyone else who would at the Burrow before the funeral. He toasted a whole loaf of bread and fried over half the bacon in the cupboard, his own appetite guiding him.

"Whoa," Harry said, walking in as Ron set the last serving plate on the table.

"Do you think I made too much?" Ron asked, glancing around and realizing he might have gotten carried away.

"Uh, no. Just wasn't expecting to wake up to... all this." Harry motioned to the spread of food, but Ron knew what he meant.

"Can't compare to what Mum can do, but it's better than nothing." Ron shrugged as he handed Harry a plate. They both took generous helpings out of habit but mostly picked at the food as they sat together. Harry complimented his cooking abilities, but Ron didn't need the reassurance. Even the most gifted chef couldn't prepare a meal that wouldn't sit heavily in their stomachs today.

Ron glanced towards the window, another habit of being back home and waiting for the morning's paper. "S'pose we haven't subscribed to the Prophet again yet. Shame. It'd be nice to know what's going on out there."

"I kind of like not knowing," Harry said.

It didn't take long for Hermione and Ginny to join them, the latter surprisingly not saying a word about Ron's cooking. The lack of teasing only solidified his sullen mood.

Hermione sat beside him, looking even more tired than she had the morning before with less hair to hide behind. He liked that she seemed more transparent, but he didn't like what he saw. If Bellatrix weren't already dead, he'd be out hunting her down.

She must have felt his eyes on her as she looked up and gave him a shy confused smile. No matter his worries, he couldn't help but smile back, even if it was just a small one. He didn't know if he'd ever get used to this, of being able to stare at her all he wanted and not try to hide it. Maybe one day she'd get sick of it, but at least for now, she smiled back.

"Oh," Ginny said in a mocking tone with a hand over her heart as she leaned over to Harry, "remember when we used to look at each other like that?"

Harry, who'd been staring deeply into his plate, looked up to now see Hermione blushing and Ron glaring at his sister. "Um… sure."

Ginny patted his arm. "You are the most oblivious wizard I have ever met. Don't ever change."

Ron rolled his eyes and swallowed down the spark of jealousy that had jumped into his throat out of nowhere. He remembered why it was so easy to accept Harry and Ginny as a couple; they were just so damn natural about it. They made it look so easy. And here he was, fumbling over how to even sit next to Hermione. He didn't know how to be around her in normal everyday situations when all he could think about was how he could take her hand or kiss her cheek or any other small acts of affection on a whim. How was he supposed to have a casual conversation with other people in the room with that thought in the back of his mind? Dammit, when had her hand ended up in his?

The four of them gave up on their half-hearted attempts to eat in order to get ready for the day. Hermione managed to sneak Ron a quick kiss before they separated, and it gave him the motivation he needed to shower and dress and not think too hard about where he'd be headed. Neither he nor Harry had much choice when it came to clothes. Whatever hadn't been packed in Hermione's beaded bag had either been damaged when the Burrow had been searched and thrown away by Fleur or was still packed away in one of the trunks that they didn't have time to search through. Ron didn't feel completely right wearing a dingy button-down shirt, but he doubted he would have felt right in perfectly tailored black robes either. Nothing was going to feel right today.

When he and Harry returned downstairs, his mum bear-hugged them both, already quietly weeping. "I love you both, so much," she said between sniffles. She put a hand on each of their cheeks and looked straight in their eyes. "You know that, right?"

"Of course, Mum." Ron squeezed her hand.

"Yeah," Harry agreed.

She took a deep breath as if mustering up the strength to gain control of herself again. She patted their cheeks one more time and said, "Alright."

Bill and Fleur arrived at that moment, and a fresh stream of tears slid down his mum's face as she grabbed Bill into a tight hug as well. More of the same followed as Hermione and Ginny and Charlie came downstairs. When Hermione came to his side, she automatically took his hand and leaned her head against his arm. Merlin, he was lucky to have her.

Five minutes before the carriages were set to arrive, they moved out to the front garden, a nervousness setting over them with the absence of Percy and George. "They'll be here, dear," his dad said as he patted his mum's arm. "Don't worry."

Percy apparated at the end of the path, his feet heavy and slow as he walked toward them. Before they could ask, he went to his mum and said, "I'm sorry. I tried."

She burst into tears more intense than before, embracing Percy and telling him it was okay. Ron watched his toe as he scuffed it against the ground. It wasn't okay. Not really. Not that he really blamed George. It wasn't like Ron really wanted to be going himself, but he was. For his family.

At exactly quarter till, a pair of dark wood carriages pulled by chestnut horses arrived right outside of the protective barriers, driven by a pair of black-robed witches. The group walked up the hill to them, silently splitting up. Ron followed Hermione into the second carriage with Harry, Ginny, and Charlie. "Seems a bit flashy, doesn't it?" Charlie grumbled as they set off.

"Oh, shut up, Charlie," Ginny said, and to Ron's surprise, he listened and sulked in silence for the rest of the ride.

Their journey was short, winding around a few hills before stopping in front of a worn iron-wrought gate that appeared to be padlocked. The chains shimmered away and the gates opened with a creak as they approached. The carriages rode along the dirt path. Ron recognized his late uncles' graves as soon as they stopped in front of them, though it had been years since his mother had dragged them all out to the graveyard to see them. He'd never been all that interested in hearing their story, but as he stepped out of the carriage, he couldn't take his eyes away from their headstones.

At least not until he saw the casket.

Only a few paces away from Gideon and Fabian's headstones stood the box that contained Fred's body. It sat on a raised slab of stone and covered by two sheets: one red with a golden Gryffindor lion and the other magenta and emblazoned with a large Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes logo.

Fleur marched past, greeting a pair of people Ron hadn't even noticed standing just to the side of the casket. She shook hands with a white-haired wizard in black robes then, to Ron's surprise, Professor McGonagall. She quickly accepted Fleur's thanks for helping arrange the funeral then made her way towards the family, hugging each of them in turn but holding on to Ron's mum a few moments longer. "He was an amazing boy, Molly," she said, holding on to his mum's shoulders. "I don't regret a single detention I spent with him."

His mum was able to chuckle through her tears, but she continued to lean against both Professor McGonagall and Ron's dad as guests started arriving. A queue formed in front of them as everyone gave their condolences. The group of attendees resembled a thinned out version of the crowd that came to Bill and Fleur's wedding. The Order was there minus a few notable faces, along with close family members rather than the dozens of distant aunts and uncles and cousins. Then there were the Hogwarts students and alumni, including most of the DA. Out of everyone, they asked the least about George's absence. Except for Angelina, who muttered quite a few choice words when Ginny told her George had decided not to come.

Ron, who had shared that anger earlier that morning, felt differently now. It was hard enough for him to shake all these hands and accept all these hugs; how much worse it would have been for George? Not to mention, all of the memorial pictures. Not one of them didn't include George right next to Fred. Without him here, the funeral felt like it was for both of them.

At the end of the exhaustingly long line was Kingsley. Instead of offering empty but well-meant words that everyone else had, he simply ushered them to their seats. Ron didn't have the energy to question the directions, letting Hermione's hand lead him to his seat. He heard his mum at the end of row say to his dad, "Who would have guessed? The Minister of Magic… for our boy."

He put an arm around her as Kingsley stepped behind the casket and cleared his throat. It took several moments after he started speaking for Ron to realize Kingsley hadn't just come as a guest; he had come to officiate.

"There are many who are more qualified to speak of Fred Weasley's life than I, but I think anyone who met him would be able to tell you of his charisma, bravery, kindness, and mischief. He held little regard for rules, and in a time when the rules often did not make sense, his ability to get into trouble helped fight a war. He is a hero, not because of where he died, but because of all he achieved in life. Whether you remember him as a son or a brother, a troublesome student or successful businessman, a friend in times of peace or in times of turmoil, he will be remembered as a great man taken in our darkest hour. And with some distance, let us all be able to think of Fred Weasley with a smile."

As Kinglsey stepped back, the white-haired wizard raised his wand, and the casket erupted into bright red, smokeless flames. When they dissipated, only a gleaming headstone stood with a gold plaque, Fred's name displayed on the front.

And that was it. It was over.

"Ron?" Hermione's whisper felt like a shout. He looked over to see her tugging him out of his seat to follow the rest of his family as they stood. Everyone else behind them stayed in their seats until the family cleared out of the front row, then they all started to disperse. Some apparated away immediately, including Angelina. Those that stayed meandered towards the tent of refreshments set up in the centre of the small cemetery.

Ron's family lingered behind. After exchanging a few words with the white-haired wizard, Kingsley joined them, not having a choice when it came to embraces this time. Ron's mum practically tackled him. "What a beautiful speech," she said. "Thank you, Kingsley. No one could have said better words."

"I was honoured to do it," Kinglsey replied, patting her back. "He was an exceptional wizard."

"One that would have hated being called a hero so many times today," Ron's dad said with a smile as his mum passed Kingsley on to him.

"Oh, he would have loved it," Bill chimed in. "Basked in the glory and made a badge for himself."

Everyone chuckled half-heartedly, which was as cheerful as any of them could be. Kingsley hugged the rest of them, saying that he wished he could stay but the Ministry needed him. "And though now is not the most appropriate time, Harry," Kinglsey said when he reached him, "I can't pass up the opportunity to say, formally as Minister, that the entire Wizarding community of Britain will forever be in your debt. And informally, as a friend and fellow member of the Order, I never doubted you for a moment." He gave Harry a hearty pat on the back, knocking Harry's glasses askew.

"And of course," Kingsley continued, turning to Ron and Hermione, "the war wouldn't be over without the two of you as well. You've proven the difference that loyal friends can make."

Ron felt the tips of his ears grow hot with embarrassment. He didn't deserve that title. "Yeah, well, we did our best."

"We never doubted him either," Hermione said, giving his hand an extra-long squeeze as she seemed to know exactly where his mind had jumped to.

Ron glanced at Harry, a tinge of fear that he would call him out in front of Kingsley. Instead, Harry just nodded and said, "I can't imagine better friends."

Despite still feeling a small bit of shame, their words comforted him. Maybe one day the guilt would completely go away, but for now, at least he knew he was forgiven.

"One last thing before I leave," Kingsley said, pulling an envelope from his pocket. "Now is not the best time, but I promised Andromeda I would give this to you as soon as I could." He handed over the envelope that was addressed to 'The Burrow'. "She's arranged a small ceremony for Sunday and would like to keep it as private as possible. I believe there's a separate note in there just for you, Harry." Harry nodded solemnly as he took it, clutching it tightly.

Kingsley glanced at his watch. "I've already stayed longer than I said I would. I would like to have a real conversation with you, all three of you, sometime soon, but for now, it can wait. I'll see you again soon."

As he turned to walk away, Harry called after him. "Kingsley, before you go, I need to ask… Bill and Charlie mentioned there's a lot of Voldemort's followers still out there hurting people. I want to help. Just tell me where to go and what to do."

Kingsley cut him off by putting a hand on his shoulder. "Harry, I have plans for you and will be asking too much of you soon. But not now." He squeezed Harry's shoulder, nodded a goodbye to Ron and Hermione, then finally left, walking off a few feet before disapparating.

Harry looked down at the envelope in his hands, his shoulders sagging. "This is only the first of many, isn't it?" he asked. Ron and Hermione didn't have to answer.

"We should all get a drink," Ginny said, jumping in and dragging them away towards the tables of finger sandwiches and biscuits. "I hear there's wine."

The four of them grabbed a glass and secluded themselves away from the crowd as quick as possible. Everyone there was respectful enough not to approach Harry, but they could all feel the stares and hear the whispers as they walked past. Unfortunately, none of them were in the mood to make a joke of it. They quietly sipped their wine, not enjoying it very much. Ron's nose scrunched up every time he forced himself to take a sip.

"Are there more people here than before?" Harry asked, his eyes on the crowd.

Ron, who'd been preoccupied thinking about how Fred would've preferred Firewhiskey being served than the bitter wine, followed Harry's gaze and noticed he had a point. Most everyone he'd seen at the ceremony had been a familiar face or at least introduced themselves as they went through the receiving line. There were a few faces bobbing through the crowd that Ron didn't know at all. "Maybe they showed up late?" he asked, trying to keep an optimistic mindset.

"Maybe." Harry's shoulders were stiff, and he already had his hand reaching for his wand. "I don't recognize any of them."

Ron immediately knew what Harry meant: they didn't look like any DeathEaters they knew. His fingers gripped the handle of his wand. "Could've used Polyjuice Potion or a glamour spell," he said as he stepped next to Harry, not so subtly putting himself in front of Hermione.

He expected her to stand next to him and offer some sort of enlightening statement that would conclude whether they should be worried or not, but she stayed back with a hand in the crook of his arm.

"I know who they are," Ginny said, all three of their gazes shooting to her. Unlike their battle-ready faces, she simply wore the face of someone about to cast a Bat-Bogey Hex. "That one there is Colleen Hillcrest. She writes for Witch Weekly."

The life-or-death anxiety deflated Ron's nerves, but another sinking nervousness filled him instead. "Reporters? Here?"

"Of course they'd be here," Hermione muttered bitterly. "They've probably been counting down the days, hoping Harry would be here."

"You save the Wizarding World once and you can't even go to a funeral anymore," Harry muttered, jamming his hands deep into his pockets and turning away from the reporters. Ron followed his lead, ducking his head in the hopes to blend in with the rest of the redheads. Hermione quickly withdrew her hand from his arm to cross them over her chest and hide her bushy hair behind his shoulder. These movements to hide their identities came so naturally, Ron didn't even notice what they were doing until he saw Ginny watching them with a slightly confused but also understanding face.

"Dad and Fleur said they tried to keep it as private as possible," Ginny said, stepping next to Harry to finish off their group formation into a small horseshoe. Both she and Hermione could see over the boys' shoulders while remaining out of sight. "Too bad Kingsley isn't here anymore, though I doubt even being thrown out the Minister of Magic would have much of an effect on these people."

"Oh, I think your mum's seen," Hermione said.

Ron turned and watched his mum break away from the crowd around her to approach the reporter who had completely dropped her cover and held a notebook in her hand. Though too far away to hear the conversation, his mum didn't seem confrontational. Actually, she seemed… welcoming. She read enough Witch Weekly to recognize whoever this Colleen Hillcrest was, and maybe she thought the half a dozen reporters were here to cover the funerals of the more well-known. And maybe they were. It wasn't like Fred hadn't made a name for himself before dying. His and George's business had been successful enough to earn a few articles in the Prophet and magazines that cared more about consumerism than celebrities. The reporter's being here for Fred wasn't a completely unfathomable possibility.

Then Colleen Hillcrest caught sight of Harry and his optimism burned up like a phoenix.

She brushed off his mother to march straight towards them, and Ron was glad Bill stepped in her path or else he might've hit her when she reached them. Even from his distance, he could see his mum's face fall into despair before picking back up into a motherly rage. Red in the face with tears still in her eyes, she marched up to the reporter and started in on a lecture that would have any of her children cowering.

"I should just go talk to them," Harry said, already walking towards them. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny all reached out a hand to stop him. He brushed them off as if he'd been expecting them to protest. "They're going to be hunting me down everywhere I go until I do."

"Even if you talk to them now, they won't stop hunting you down in the future," Hermione argued. "All of Britain is talking about you. They'd interview you every day if they could."

Harry only seemed partially convinced, so Ginny added, "Do you really want your first interview to be with a second-rate Rita Skeeter?"

That named reeled Harry in. He nodded his acceptance but was still watching the commotion as it grew louder and rowdier as the reporter's lost patience and more family members and guests had to step in to stop them. "Maybe we should sneak away while they're somewhat distracted," Ron suggested, not wanting to stay any longer himself.

The others slowly nodded agreement, but they dragged their feet moving away until the cameras started flashing. "Feels like they're winning," Ginny grumbled, voicing all of their thoughts. "It's my brother's bloody funeral. I should be hexing them to next Tuesday!"

"Let's not make an enemy of the press already," Hermione said. Ron gave her a bewildered look. He would've thought with all of her history with Rita Skeeter, she'd be the first to back up Ginny's plan. "They'll be writing about all of us no matter what, and if we tick them off, they'll be writing nasty things about us for months."

"They'll be writing nasty things anyway," Harry said.

"Probably." Hermione sighed. "But let's not give them anything right away."

Once behind a pair of trees, Harry and Ginny took out their wands and took turns Apparating back to the Burrow. When Ron prepared to do the same, Hermione rushed to take his hand. "Do you mind if I Side-Along?"

"Uh, sure." Ron would never dislike having Hermione's hand in his, but something felt off. He pushed his distracting intuition away so he wouldn't Splinch either of them, but as soon as they popped up outside of the Burrow's defences, his brain started piecing it together. "Hermione, wait," he said, keeping her from following Ginny and Harry, who had Apparated quite a bit closer and were waiting for them by the pile of rubble that used to be the garage. As soon as Hermione turned, though, he saw Harry and Ginny exchange a look then head inside on their own.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked.

"Did you not bring a wand with you?" Hermione's concern froze into a tight-lipped frown, and though she didn't answer, the fact that she didn't immediately deny it was enough confirmation for Ron. "I can't remember the last time I saw you use magic. What happened to the wand you used in the battle?"

"I used _her _wand." The venom she put into her words could only mean one person. "And I'm not using it again."

"You can't just go around wandless–"

"I survived my first eleven years being wandless. I think I'll be fine."

"And what if something had happened today? What if those reporters had been Death Eaters?"

"They weren't."

"We weren't inside any sort of wards. Anyone could have shown up. If reporters could find us, why not Death Eaters? Shit, we shouldn't just be standing out here in the open." He grabbed her hand and hurried towards the Burrow's wards, dragging her behind him.

"Ron, let me go!" She yanked herself out of his grip. "You're being insane."

"You're being insane! Not having a wand; have you gone mad?"

"You're blowing this completely out of proportion. I'll get another one."

"When?"

"I don't know! Soon. I'll write to Ollivander or find an open wand shop."

"And how are you going to get to a wand shop without magic?"

"I thought I would ask you."

"Well, of course, you can ask me." Ron's drive to fight drained away as he saw the hurt flash across Hermione's face. "But I still don't like that you're going around completely defenceless."

"But I'm not completely defenceless. I have you." She took his hand and looked up at him with those stupidly beautiful brown eyes of hers. "Besides, the war is over. We shouldn't have to keep thinking like that."

Ron nodded and absentmindedly took her other hand. "It doesn't always feel over though."

"No, it doesn't."

Being this close to her and able to just stare at her without interruptions, Ron noticed the dark circles under her eyes were darker than yesterday. He'd been trying to leave it alone and let her deal with her nightmares on her own, but dammit he couldn't just say nothing. "Have you been sleeping alright?"

Her face clouded over. "I've been fine."

"Are you sure? You look dreadfully tired."

"You can be so insensitive."

"I'm being honest. I'm… I'm worried about you." He didn't think he'd ever said those words to her before. Though he'd felt it often enough with the way she confidently charged through the world without caring who would stand in her way, he felt silly saying it out loud. She was Hermione Granger. She could take care of herself.

Tears shone in her eyes and gathered in the corners, ready to fall. "You shouldn't be worried about me. Not to today. It's… it's Fred's funeral. I should be helping you, not the other way around."

"You have been there for me." He tugged on her hands to bring her closer and rest their joined fingers between their stomachs. "We can be there for each other at the same time, right? No need to take turns."

Hermione opened her mouth as if to protest but must have lost her nerve because she simply nodded in defeat instead. "So," Ron said, "We should go inside, find you some Calming Draught, and take a kip."

"No." Hermione pulled her hands out of his and crossed her arms over herself. "I don't want any Calming Draught."

"Why not?" His tone came out harsh, but he was tired of this fight.

"Because I shouldn't still need it." Her knuckles went white as she gripped her arms, a tremor in her voice.

"We all need it now," Ron said, remembering how much he'd needed to get to sleep last night.

"I don't want to have to rely on it," she said, taking a new tactic. "Do you know how addicting it can be?"

"You're not going to become addicted. You won't let yourself. _I _won't let you." He took her by the shoulders, trying to break through to her. Whatever excuses she came up with, he wasn't going to let it go. "Just because you need it right now doesn't mean you'll need it forever. The nightmares will go away."

A single tear escaped her eye, and he wiped it away. "They're back, aren't they?"

She nodded, shaking loose a few more tears. "Worse than before. Like they were right after…" Her lips quivered until she couldn't finish her sentence, and Ron pulled her into him. She buried her face into his chest and squeezed herself to him.

"It's okay," he said, resting his cheek against the top of her head. Though she wasn't quite crying, her body shook with fear.

Ron could only imagine the things she experiences in her dreams. He had his own share of nightmares, especially after the Battle. The fire and crumbling castle and bodies on top of bodies had haunted him that first night in the Gryffindor common room, and when he'd woken up to Hermione missing, that same fear he'd felt at Malfoy Manor came back. During their time at Shell Cottage, her nightmares faded with every day that passed, then the Battle happened. He'd been an idiot to think the nightmares were a thing of the past.

"Come on," he said once her breaths had steadied again. With an arm around her shoulders, he guided her back to the Burrow, thankful that the rest of his family hadn't returned yet. Maybe the reporters had disappeared once they'd realized they weren't getting the story they had wanted.

In the living room, Harry and Ginny were sorting through the trunks of all their possessions. "Thought we might at least make ourselves useful," Ginny explained as Ron and Hermione came in.

"I think we still have some things to sort through upstairs," Ron said, nudging Hermione in the direction of the stairs. He didn't want her to get dragged into helping right now. "I just need to grab something from the kitchen."

He jogged into the kitchen but heard Ginny comment, "Yes, I'm sure you have plenty to 'sort through' up there by yourselves."

"It's nothing like that," Hermione said quickly. "We never completely unpacked our things. There's a lot to sort through."

Ginny's disbelieving scoff motivated Ron to quicken his search. Like he thought, the bottle of Calming Draught hadn't made it very far. It sat on the counter underneath the window. He grabbed it and tossed it into the pocket of his trousers before returning to save Hermione from Ginny's teasing.

"Let's go." He shot Ginny a glare as he followed Hermione upstairs, a hand on her lower back. Either she knew exactly what he was thinking or she sincerely thought they were going to finish unpacking her beaded bag, but she went straight to his room.

Once inside, he swung the door so there was only a small gap then pulled the potion out of his pocket. "You were being serious, weren't you?" Hermione said as she eyed it.

"Yep," he said simply, unstopping it and handing it to her. "You can't just not sleep."

She wore her argumentative face, and he would have loved to see her try to fight him on that, but even she couldn't argue that statement. Instead, she took the bottle and glared down at it. He thought he might need to say something more convincing, but with a defeated sigh, she finally took a generous gulp. Thank Merlin.

When she handed it back to him, he took a quick drink more out of camaraderie than needing it himself. He would never tell her, but he was glad to be focusing on her. When he was worrying over her, his mind couldn't focus on the loss of Fred.

He kicked off his shoes and sat on the edge of his bed, watching Hermione do the same. Maybe he should have felt some kind of tension being alone in his room with her, but this wasn't an unfamiliar scene and everything hurt too much to think of the kind of things a bed implied in a romantic relationship. Today, even a kiss seemed like too much.

"There isn't much room," he said, glancing at his twin-sized bed that often felt too small for just him. "I can take Harry's cot."

"It's fine," Hermione said, grabbing his hand before he could stand up.

He nodded, feeling the effects of the potion beginning to seep in and fog his already tired mind. As he laid down as close to the wall as he could to give Hermione room, whatever awkwardness or nervousness he might have normally felt were numbed out. Even Hermione curling into his side and resting her head on his chest brought only feelings of warmth and comfort.

The Calming Draught worked slower on Hermione. She moved around as she settled herself, her shoulders shaking when she took a deep breath. Ron squeezed her with the arm around her shoulders and took her trembling hand in his other. After a few moments, the potion finally stilled her. He could feel her body grow heavy with sleep, the tight grip of her fingers holding his going slack.

He almost regretted taking a sip of the Calming Draught. If he hadn't, maybe he would have been able to stay awake a little longer. He would have liked to sit in that moment for as long as he could.

* * *

**Author's Note: **And we are back on schedule! :) A huge chocolate-covered thank you to everyone who has followed, favourited, and reviewed this story so far, especially those of you who have reviewed multiple chapters as they come out. Shout out to LilyMay77, closetcannons, FantasyGirl20, mellyfan, and Bluest Witch for all of your kind and encouraging words!

I apologize if Fred's funeral seemed a little rushed or boring. I feel like I've written is funeral so many times that trying to come up with something new was simply beyond me. If you really want to cry, you can always check out On The Verge Of Happy Endings:Chapter 3 or Fireworks. I cried writing both of them and feel like those are closer to my actual headcanon. However, I didn't want to repeat the same story for a third time, so hence the paparazzi. I still can't see George ever attending a funeral-like funeral for Fred, so at least that hasn't changed.

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this more melancholy chapter. If you're a bit starved for some more Romione action, all I can say is wait for the next chapter. ;)


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five: To Calm An Anxious Heart**

Her world was pain and fire and darkness. She held her breath to hold back her screams, not wanting anyone to find her. If no one tried to save her and no one else met this fate, she could endure this.

But her wish went ungranted. Somewhere in the blackness, someone screamed. A crash echoed around her, setting off a roaring cacophony of yelling and bangs and crying and rushing wind. The world was ending. Nothing mattered. She took a deep breath, dust flooding into lungs and choking off her scream.

She coughed herself awake, rolling over on her belly to muffle it into the mattress. She jumped when a hand touched her back, sucking in air that stuck in her lungs and wouldn't come back out.

"Hermione." Ron's voice grounded her instantly, bringing her back to the reality where she was in the Burrow in Ron's bed with Ron laying beside her. Whatever horror setting she'd been in before existed only in her mind. That didn't exactly bring a lot of comfort for someone who often lived inside her own mind, but at least that place had disappeared for now.

She dug her forehead into the bed, wiping off the sweat that had collected there. "Hermione," Ron said, more concern in his voice than before. She wanted to tell him she was okay, that even though her entire body was shaking, she'd been through this enough times that the rational part of her brain knew it would be over soon. The adrenaline would fade, her breathing would return to normal, and she'd be okay. But the words couldn't come out without her taking a breath, and she just couldn't catch one.

And knowing that it would end soon didn't numb her current panic.

The last two times she'd woken up like this, she had jumped out of bed and walked away, needing to escape, but with Ron's hand heavy on her back, that yearning to get away changed into a desperate need to cling to that comfort his touch brought her. Every inch of her skin tingled with the ghost of past curses except the bit underneath his hand.

She turned to face him, her hands covering her face as tears began to fall. He brought his arms around her as she buried her head in his chest, pressing herself against him. His warmth chased away the chills, and his whispers telling her that she was safe calmed the distant voices in her head that chased her in wakefulness. Soon enough, her crying subsided, and she felt in control of her body again. She could feel all her limbs again.

The pure fear was replaced with a new feeling of dread. Ron had helped her through episodes like this before back at Shell Cottage, but she'd gotten better and now was worse again. She felt like a failure and that she was dragging him down with her.

"I'm sorry," she said, not sure if he could even hear her. She slid her hands down from her face, looking Ron in the eyes for the first time. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry." Ron's solid hold on her softened, and he rubbed circles into her back.

His movements distracted her scattered mind, bringing the pieces back together. She curled her fingers into the collar of his shirt and brought his face down to hers. Ron kissed her gently, but she craved more. If she could concentrate on this, the shadows in her mind felt far away. She sucked at his lower lip, taking advantage of his natural reaction to deepen the kiss into something unmistakably passionate.

Ron managed to pull away just a centimetre to say, "Hermione… are you alright? You seem to be…"

"Distracting myself?" she said. "Yes, exactly."

"Oh." He must not have been expecting her honest admittance and took a moment to process. "Well, as long as we're on the same page."

She nodded, glad not to be meeting any resistance as he came back down to her. He met her vehemence with careful, gentle movements, which only gave her more of a challenge to concentrate on. Their feet were tangled together, their bodies already snug against each other, but she needed more. Keeping one hand on his collar to stop him from getting away again, her other one drifted down to the hem of his shirt. Not wanting to give herself time to catch cold feet, she moved her hand underneath and skimmed his stomach with her fingers.

He gasped against her lips. Finally.

Hermione didn't know what she was doing exactly, but his reaction felt like a victory. At least she had found something new to work on and get better at. The nightmares felt so out of her control, but kissing Ron in a way that made him hum in the back of his throat, that was completely in her control.

Ron kept his explorations more modest. One of his hands gripped her waist, over her shirt, while the other splayed against her back, the tips of his fingers pressed firmly into her skin. Meanwhile, Hermione's hand slid across his stomach, tracing across his ribs than dipping behind his back. Her fingers skimmed the back of his trousers that, she noticed, were loose enough for her hand to accidentally slip under.

Suddenly, Ron flipped her over onto her back. She thought she might've finally succeeded in pushing him over the edge, making him need this closeness as much as she did, but then he pulled away. He kissed both of her cheeks over the dried tracks of her tears, then sat up.

"Come back," Hermione said without thinking, reaching for him.

He took her hands, but instead of letting her pull him in again, he pulled her up and nodded towards the cracked door. "Anyone could walk in right now."

"We can close the door."

Ron chuckled and rolled his eyes. "Now I know you're not in your right mind." His breaths were still heavy, and his cheeks flushed pink. He fidgeted with his trousers, glancing at her sheepishly before checking his watch. "Shit, we've been asleep for four hours."

Hermione shrugged, having passed out for longer periods than that while at Hogwarts, especially during O.W.L.'s. It wasn't like she wasn't aware she hadn't slept well the past two nights. "We both needed it. And that's about how long it takes for Calming Draught to wear off."

"Yeah, right." Ron looked at her, his gaze penetrating with the amount of concern in his eyes. "Are you sure you're alright? Not that I don't enjoy a healthy snog but… it seemed like a strange time."

Hermione pursed her lips, trying to find the right words. "Well… when I'm in that nightmare I'm… alone… and everything hurts. And kissing you is… the opposite of that. Not to mention that fear makes one restless, and when I wake up and there's nothing to be afraid of, I've still got that… restlessness."

His ears were red, but Ron couldn't hide the small self-satisfied smile on his face. "That's all well and good… It just doesn't seem Healer-recommended."

"Ron." Hermione took his hands, taking a deep breath herself. "There's no potion or spell or any sort of magic that will fix this overnight."

"But they started going away when were at Shell Cottage. What made it better then?" he asked, grasping at her hands. For the first time, Hermione could see her own desperation reflected back at her.

"Time," she said, surprising herself. But it was true. The Calming Draught helped her sleep when it felt impossible, and Ron brought her comfort when she woke up from the phantom pains, but time passing had been the only thing that made the nightmares fade. "They will go away again, in their own time. I don't think either one of us can force them to disappear."

"I hate that."

Hermione smiled. She hated it too, but she loved how much he wanted to help her. In practice, it often annoyed her, but in moments like this, she could appreciate that his overbearing nature meant he cared. "I'll take the Calming Draught," she said, delighted to see his worried brow unfurrow. "I promise, for as long as I need, I'll swallow my pride and take it."

Ron leaned forward and kissed her forehead. "You are so stubborn," he said with affection, but before she could find a retort, he stood from the bed and pulled her with him. "Come on. Maybe someone's started dinner."

Hermione rolled her eyes, still slightly miffed at his 'stubborn' comment. They made their way downstairs, not hearing any noise to indicate the rest of Ron's family had come home from the funeral but his parents' bedroom door was closed. Maybe they weren't the only ones who had needed a nap.

When they walked into the kitchen, the smell of chicken roasting welcoming them inside, they found Harry and Ginny bustling about over pots and pans. Ginny smirked at them through the steam. "It's about time you two woke up."

"Lay off it," Ron said, then changed his tone when he asked, "Wait, how did you know we were asleep?"

"Because I went to check on you after you'd been gone for more than an hour. I figured that was more than enough time for the pair of you to 'sort through things', but then I found you passed out, not missing so much as a sock. Never would have thought you'd be so boring."

"We're not boring," Ron said, and for a moment, Hermione thought he might delve into details about what they'd been up to just a few minutes ago.

Luckily, Harry cut in before that. "I really don't want to know about anything 'not boring' going on between you two."

Ginny was still giving Ron a challenging grin, so before their sibling rivalry could get the best of them, Hermione asked if they needed any help cooking dinner. Most of it was already done, so she and Ron set the table. Harry and Ginny let them know everyone had come home from the funeral and confirmed their suspicions that once the four of them had disappeared, so did the reporters. Harry quickly went on to show them the pile of funeral invitations that had arrived throughout the day. "I don't know if I should go to any though," he finished.

"And I think he's an idiot," Ginny chimed in. "As you said, Hermione, those gossip-hunters will show up anywhere they think he might go, whether or not he turns up. It's not like he'd be bringing them."

"But you saw the commotion they caused today," Harry argued. "Seems like everything was better once I was gone."

"You can't just _not_ go," Ron said, stealing the words out of Hermione's mouth.

"It's not that I don't want to." Harry threw down the envelope in his hand. "But it feels disrespectful to go to the funeral only to be a disruption."

"And it's not disrespectful to skip out on it?" Ron asked.

Harry growled in frustration. "Exactly! I lose no matter what I do!"

"Would you stop being so dramatic?" Ginny said as she dumped the roasted potatoes into a bowl. "Suck it up and go. We'll bow out early like we did today. Everyone will understand."

Harry sighed heavily as he sunk into a chair, running both of his hand through his hair. Ginny seemed to have won for a moment, but then Harry spoke up again. "Maybe I should go under a disguise like I did for Bill and Fleur's wedding."

"Yeah, we've gotten pretty good at glamour charms," Ron said. "Wouldn't be hard to do."

"We'd have to let the family know ahead of time," Hermione added, already composing the letter they could send in her head.

Ginny dropped the platter of steaming chicken breasts in the centre of the table, disrupting their plans. "Is everything such a production with you three? Honestly, we're not evading Death Eaters here. If a couple of reporters snap your picture while you're rightfully paying your respects to the dead, it's not the end of the world."

Hermione blushed and looked away, Ginny's words resonating hard inside her. How many times a day did she have to remind herself the war was over, they weren't on the run anymore, and they could stop thinking like this? "Sorry, Ginny. It's just… after having to be in a 'constant vigilance' mind-set for so long, it's hard to break the habit."

"You don't need to lecture me on what it took to survive last year. You weren't the ones facing Death Eaters every day." She turned sharply back to the stove, her long hair swinging out and ending the conversation. Hermione, Ron, and Harry glanced at each other guiltily, eventually conceding to discuss the schedule of funerals. There were many in the coming week, a few overlapping, so they had to plan carefully.

Soon enough, Bill and Fleur dropped in unexpectedly, bringing their own full-course dinner, then Charlie returned with a box of Muggle take-out. Hermione couldn't help but notice that all of the Weasley children seemed to be trying to make up for their mother's absence in the kitchen. Even George, who showed up to the Burrow with Percy as if he hadn't missed his twin's funeral that day, came bearing a dozen Butterbeers. Mrs Weasley burst into tears when she came downstairs to find her family gathered around a table overflowing with food and laughter.

Hermione wished that that night would have marked the start of normalcy in their lives again. Instead, it stamped a single happy memory into the preface of a week of mourning. They seemed to hop from funeral to funeral, barely spending more than nights at the Burrow. After a while, they all seemed to blend together, whether large or small, Muggle or magic, an acquaintance or close friend.

Somehow, their lives inside the Burrow started to settle despite feeling like they were never there. Charlie left to make contact with the foreign allies he had made for Kingsley, wanting to keep those relationships strong now that the Ministry was so weak. George, to everyone's surprise, moved back into the flat above Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes and set to work on the shop again, refusing his family's help. Hermione was impressed with his productive grief, but Ron fretted about it nearly every day.

With so many empty bedrooms, Mr Weasley thought it silly for everyone to be sharing and insisted Hermione move into Percy's old bedroom and Harry into Bill and Charlie's. Hermione kept the room sparse, refusing to completely move in. She hadn't told Mr and Mrs Weasley the full-extent of her parents moving abroad, leaving out important bits like their missing memory, but they'd agreed it was a good plan to wait for the Wizarding World of Britain to settle before bringing them home. She still planned on moving back in with them, but she didn't know when, or even where, that would be exactly.

She made sure the house and practice had been sold, and no ties existed between the Grangers and the Wilkens. The home she'd grown up in now belonged to a family with two kids and the practice remodelled into a massage parlour. Their lives in England had been completely erased. Thre was no returning to her life before.

These were the thoughts circling her mind at all times. She tried to imagine what life would be like once her parents were back, but she couldn't without thinking of their old home. Really, she couldn't even imagine past finding them. Hermione knew exactly where they'd moved to Australia, but to get there, she'd either have to spend over half of her savings to fly to them or risk asking Kingsley for help. Not that she thought Kinglsey would punish her for protecting her parents, but what she'd done broke at least half a dozen Wizarding laws. She didn't want the Minister for Magic covering up for her.

Fetching her parents seemed like a faraway dream most days. Between the funerals, she skimmed through the Daily Prophet, reading about every new arrest or trial or skirmish. Depending on the reporter, Kingley's efforts were either praised or criticized. Harry grew antsier every day.

"He hasn't said anything about how I can help?" he asked Percy as they entered Andromeda Black's house for the final funeral of the week. "Anything at all?"

"Even if he had, that would be classified information," Percy said.

"Really, Percy?" Ron said.

"He's the Minister for Magic now. Your previous friendly relationship with him is going to change. It'd be against my job as Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic to divulge information without explicit permission."

Ron rolled his eyes, but any retort he had was interrupted as they walked inside the quiet house. People milled about the front room, most either members of the Order or Hogwarts staff. Hagrid took up an entire corner, sniffling into a handkerchief.

Andromeda had forgone a formal ceremony for Tonks and Remus, opting instead to open her house for a few hours to those closest to the late couple to pay their respects to the urns set above the fireplace. She had chosen cremation, it seemed, to keep a part of them here for Teddy. And maybe for herself as well. Hermione could see how large and lonely this house could be with only a baby to keep her company.

The two occupants of the house stayed in a backroom, everyone reaching an unspeakable agreement to only enter a few at a time. Hermione, Ron, Harry, and Ginny took a while to make their way through the first room, stopped by every person they passed. Those not present at any of the other funerals thanked them, especially Harry, for ending the war, and those they had seen before brought news of celebrations or loved ones still missing.

When they made it to the back sitting room where Andromeda stood with a sleeping Teddy in her arms, Hermione felt drained. Their week of funerals felt more like one social call after another.

"Finally come to meet your godson?" Andromeda asked as they walked into the room, cutting off any condolences they might have opened up with.

Hermione froze in the doorway, her breath disappearing as her eyes landed on Andromeda. Though she knew the witch in front of her was Tonks' mum, her survival instinct told her to run. She closed her eyes for a moment, dispelling Bellatrix's face from her mind. A warm hand took hold of her cold one, and she opened her eyes to find Ron beside her. He led the way in, bringing her closer to Andromeda but also keeping himself between the two of them. What would she do without him?

"I would have come sooner, but I didn't want to intrude," Harry answered, going tense and formal. Andromeda's eyes were intimidating but overall carried a kind-look about them. Hermione knew it wasn't just Andromeda's cool exterior putting Harry off. Guilt practically wafted off of him at every funeral, especially when speaking with the families of the fallen. She wished he could accept that none of these deaths had been his fault and that he had prevented many more from happening, but she knew no one's words alone would convince him.

"I suppose we're family now in a way," Andromeda said, "and I haven't much left nowadays. So, please, intrude whenever you like."

Harry gulped and nodded, his eyes wide and watching the bundle in Andromeda's arms. "Would you like to hold him?" she asked.

"I don't know how."

"It's not exactly a hard skill to learn. Here, sit." Andromeda gestured Harry towards the sofa, barely giving him enough time to sit and wipe his sweaty hands against his trousers before placing Teddy, only a swaddle of blankets from Hermione's view, into his arms.

The room seemed a little brighter as Harry stared down at the baby with wonder and warmth and just a pinch of terror. Andromeda adjusted his hands then stepped back with a satisfied smile.

Ginny sat beside Harry, a hand on his elbow as she cooed over Teddy. Ron's neck craned to see into the blankets, an eagerness Hermione had never seen before in his eyes. She pulled him over to the sofa, giving him the spot next to Harry. He sat close, a hand reaching out but not touching the baby, ready to catch him in case Harry suddenly decided to drop him.

Hermione had to sit on the edge of her seat to catch a sight of Teddy, only seeing a tuft of shockingly blue hair peeking over the blankets. "Dora was born with purple hair," Andromeda said as she lounged back in one of the sitting chairs. "He takes after her in that way, Merlin help me."

"I can help," Harry said suddenly, nearly jumping out of his seat with enthusiasm. "Bill is still negotiating with the Gringotts goblins at the moment, but once I can access my vault again, I can get him whatever he needs. And I can be here at any time and help care for him. I don't really know how to take care of a baby, but I can learn. I want to do everything I can to help him grow up okay. That's what godfathers are for, right?"

Ginny placed a hand on his shoulder, restraining his vehemence with a concerned frown that matched Hermione's own. Andromeda merely smirked. "You are far too young to become a full-time father yet. We've been handling ourselves fine, just the two of us. Why don't you start with simply spending time with him as often as you can without giving up your own life?"

"But I can do more–"

"Harry Potter." Andromeda reached forward and placed a hand on his knee. "You do not need to be his father. He already has one of those, even if he isn't here with us anymore. Your only obligation is to be his godfather and to love him."

"But–"

"Are you sure you want to keep arguing with me?"

Harry snapped his mouth shut, ducking his head in a pout as he stared down at little Teddy again. Andromeda sat back in her chair, but apparently, Harry wasn't done. "What about Kreacher?"

"My mad Aunt's grumbling, gruesome house-elf?" Andromeda asked with confusion. "Shouldn't he be dead by now?"

Annoyance and anger boiled in Hermione's belly, set off by Andromeda's flippant tone. "He's alive and well, actually, and was quite lovely to the three of us while we stayed at Grimmauld Place last year."

Andromeda raised a sceptical eyebrow. "Are we talking about the same house elf that used to mop the stairs outside Sirius' bedroom when I visited him in the hopes one of us would slip?"

Hermione swallowed against the bitterness in her throat, searching for an argument before Harry jumped in. "He's changed a lot since then." Andromeda scoffed, but Harry continued. "He's one of the reasons I was able to defeat Voldemort. He sacrificed a lot helping Regulus go against him."

"Huh," Andromeda said, leaning far back in her chair. "Either you know much more about my family than I do, or you're suffering from a series of odd delusions."

"It's all true," Ron said. "We found a lot of secrets at Grimmauld Place."

"All very interesting," Andromeda said with a flat tone. "So what about this house-elf?"

"He has a name," Hermione bit out.

"Yes, I'm aware. Now, what of him?"

"He should be here with you," Harry said in a rush before Hermione could get in anything else. "Sirius passed him along to me, but he's been at Hogwarts since autumn and is still there working on repairs with the other house-elves. But I think he'd be happier in a real home."

"Not my home. That creature hates me."

"He's gotten better," Harry insisted. "He's not completely pleasant company, but as long as he has his own space, he's incredibly useful."

"You refuse to lose a fight, don't you?" Andromeda asked with a tired smile. "Fine, he can have a trial run here, but I'll send him right back to you in a heartbeat if I must."

Harry agreed with a satisfied smile, but Hermione couldn't bite her tongue any longer. "He deserves to live in a home that wants him."

"They need him more than we do," Harry said in a quiet tone as if they could keep their conversation unheard by Andromeda. "Besides, it would be good for him to get out of the castle. I doubt he's much help there anyways as old as he is."

"Then he should stay with us at the Burrow."

"My parents would hate that," Ron said. "Not that they wouldn't want to give him a place to stay, but house-elves are sort of a status symbol for Pureblood families. It wouldn't feel right having one at our home."

"It would be better than here." Hermione didn't care if Andromeda could hear; she wanted the older witch to be offended. Kreacher had suffered from Voldemort and his followers as much as any of them, and he didn't deserve to go back to his life as a slave, especially for someone so hateful towards him.

Harry and Hermione held a glare in front of Ron until he cut in again. "Harry's right, Hermione, Kreacher's better off in a house rather than a crumbling castle. He's more suited for domestic work than manual labour."

Ganged-up on, Hermione was ready to explode, but Ginny interrupted, saying, "Oi, are the three of you finished squabbling?"

"Yes," Harry said, leaving no room for argument. "It's my decision to make, so if you'll accept him, I would like to give Kreacher to you and Teddy for the foreseeable future… or until you kick him out."

Andromeda chuckled. "Yes, I'm glad that's settled." Her gaze drifted over to Hermione, not challenging as she would have thought but curious, as if wondering if Hermione would keep hold of the argument or let it go.

Hermione didn't have much of a choice either way. A figure appeared in the doorway, all of them looking over to find Professor McGonagall standing there with apologetically pursed lips. "I hate to interrupt, but the Minister would like a word with you four before he has to leave."

"Kingsley is here?" Harry asked.

Andromeda nodded. "He was the first to arrive." She stood from her seat, reaching out to take Teddy. "Best not to keep the Minister waiting."

But Harry hugged Teddy closer to him, seeming surprised at his own movements. Andromeda pushed through the tense air, saying, "How about you come here for dinner tomorrow evening? All of you."

For a second, Hermione thought Harry might simply refuse to let Teddy go, but then he nodded and handed back the baby. "That would be great," he said.

Ron stood and rubbed a fingertip against Teddy's cheek. "See you later, Teddy," he said so quietly and sweet that Hermione's heart ached. She was still on edge from the argument and miffed that Ron had taken Harry's side, and his affection towards Teddy stung. Then he turned around and offered a hand to help her up. She took it.

They followed Harry and Ginny out into the hall, where Professor McGonagall led them in the opposite direction of the living room. Harry seemed too lost in his own thoughts to say anything, Ginny worrying over him, and Hermione didn't trust herself to speak just yet. Ron spoke up first, asking Professor McGonagall about Hogwarts and the rebuilding...

"Staff have made quite a lot of progress securing the area so far," Professor McGonagall explained. "We've been refusing volunteers until the castle is at least free of any curses, and all of that commotion stirred up quite a few of Hogwarts secrets. I feel we'll have to start accepting volunteers soon."

"Our family will be there," Ron said.

"Yes, your father has been most vocal. We've placed a few extra security measures around the grounds, so be sure to reiterate to him to send word before anyone arrives or you'll be sitting by the gates for hours."

"Good to know."

"Will it open again next year?" Hermione asked, her head clearing enough to remember she'd been meaning to ask the professor this question practically since the end of the battle.

"I would like to," Professor McGonagall said as they walked up a single flight of steps at the end of the hallway. "It's too hard to say for now if that will be feasible, but my ideal plan is to offer an opportunity for those who feel prepared to sit their O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s then resume our usual schedule in September. Anyone who was unable to attend their final year will be welcomed back if they so wish. The Ministry exams will be much larger than we've ever had in the past, but we'll make it work."

"So we can all go back?" Hermione's heart lifted with a joy not felt in a long time. There seemed so little to be happy about these last few days.

"Bet you could take the exams beforehand and pass with flying O's," Ron said, nudging her elbow. "It's Harry and me who'd need a year of refreshing, not that we'd get very far without you."

"Perhaps you should speak with Minister Shacklebolt before making any decisions," Professor McGonagall said, opening up a door to a small office space.

Kingsley stood to the far end, hands behind his back as he gazed out the window. The shadows in his face slipped away as he turned around to greet them with a warm smile. "Hello, again. I'm afraid I have little time for pleasantries today." He duplicated the simple, cushioned desk chair and transfigured one into a small round table for them to sit around. Professor McGonagall took her leave as they sat, and Kingsley produced another wand from his sleeve. "Firstly, I believe this belongs to you, Ron."

Ron hesitated, staring in disbelief at the wand, unmistakably his. He reached over and took it, asking, "How…?"

"A Snatcher, I can't say who, had an entire knapsack full of wands. A few of our watch wizards have spent days identifying them."

"Have you found any vine wands?" Hermione asked, hope fluttering in her chest that she might be reunited with her own wand.

"I wish I could say we had," Kingsley said, a few shadows returning to his face. "Many Muggleborn wands were destroyed after being confiscated."

"I thought that might be the case." Disappointment weighed down on her despite knowing it had been a long shot.

"Ollivander's reopened his shop," Ron offered. "We'll plan a trip soon."

Hermione nodded, but the heaviness in her heart remained. Practically, she needed a new wand, but the destruction of her wand felt like the sudden death of a childhood pet. All her first experiences with magic had been with that wand. A new one simply would not be the same.

"Now the time has come," Kingsley said, slipping a roll of parchment from his pocket, "for me to ask too much of you."

"Dumbledore used to say that," Harry said absentmindedly.

"Then I'm on the right path." Kingsley straightened his parchment, taking a second to gather his thoughts. "As I'm sure all of you are aware, the Ministry has been torn apart by the war. It is hard to know who to trust. I've put a lot of focus into the Auror Department, not only because of my responsibility as the previous Head, but also because a strong group of Aurors will be essential in rebuilding our world after so much darkness. Unfortunately, we haven't the manpower at this moment to properly handle the fallout of Voldemort's defeat."

Hermione sensed where Kingsley's words were leading, her stomach dropping to the floor. But he wouldn't, would he? Not so soon after the battle, surely, though he seemed desperate and uneager, as if doing something he didn't want. But they were still so young, though, she supposed, of age. But none of them had any N.E.W.T.'s. They weren't qualified!

"I must offer you an opportunity that I know you will find difficult to refuse, so I won't hear your decision today." Kingsley paused to hand the parchment across to Harry, then finally said, "We're recruiting new Aurors to take part in an accelerated training, one that will involve taking part in assignments while completing training and tests instead of after. And the normal academic requirements will be waived for special cases." He emphasized this last part with a pointed look at Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

Harry stared at Kingsley in awe. "You want us to become Aurors?"

"In training," Kingsley clarified. "As talented as you, I can't simply send you out on your own first day. And the offer isn't only for the three of you. With so many other things needing my attention, I can't do all of the recruiting myself, so I've been reaching out to those I can trust to send the message onward to those you find worthy. I believe that Dumbledore's Army list of yours would be a good place to start."

"Yeah, of course," Harry said, passing along the parchment to Ron and Hermione. Getting a good look at it. Hermione realized it was an invitation to an informative meeting at the Ministry that Friday. Ron held it close, gripping it as if it would fly out of his hand at any moment.

"Now, I can't ask a witch or wizard underage to undergo this training," Kingsley said, turning to Ginny.

"Of course," she grumbled. "I'm used to it."

"But you spent time at Hogwarts this past year and might be able to add a few names of your own."

Ginny sat up in her chair, engaging in the conversation for the first time. "Oh, I can do that."

Kingsley smiled. "Please don't feel restricted to only those who were in Dumbledore's Army. I trust all four of you. Give an invitation to anyone you see fit."

Hermione had a million questions, most of which involved bringing to question Kingsley's sanity to even propose such a plan, but then the minister's front pocket chirped. He reached in and pulled out a pocket watch that glowed brightly until he pressed the top button. "I'm afraid I must once again leave wanting to say more. Hermione,"–she jumped at her name–, "Arthur has made me aware of your parents' situation."

A thousand different curses that would even make Ron blush rushed through her mind. How much did Kingsley know? Had he looked into it? Did he know what she did? Was this the moment she had been dreading, the one in which either she would be carted off to Azkaban or ask the Minister for Magic to cover her crimes?

Kingsley reached across the table to pat her hand and said, "He told me you want to wait to bring them home until it's safe, which I commend, but when the time is right, I would like to offer the Ministry's resources. After all you've done, it's the least we can do."

"Thanks." Hermione didn't trust herself to say more. She couldn't accept the offer and she couldn't decline it.

Whatever way Kingsley took her answer, he stood from the table and vanished his chair. "I hope to see you three on Friday. And Ginny." He stopped to pat her on the shoulder. "Your efforts at Hogwarts have not gone missed."

Hermione sunk back in her seat as Kingsley left, watching the joy build on Ron's face. Dread filled her and sent a cold chill down her body. How the hell was she supposed to stop him from taking the offer?

* * *

**Author's Note: **Late in posting another chapter, but I've been slower in writing so not able to post as consistently. With holidays coming up, I'm afraid posting chapters will continue to be delayed. However, I hope you're still enjoying the story and will stick around as it continues. :) As always, a big thanks for everyone and anyone who has or will follow, favourite, and/or review. You rock my socks!


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six: To Find A Place Again**

Ron couldn't believe it. He glanced down at the parchment in his hand again and again, waiting for it to turn into a pigeon, like it would if he were dreaming. But the paper stayed paper. This was real. He, Ron Weasley, was going to be an Auror.

He sunk into the sofa cushions once they all arrived home again, the living room of the Burrow actually looking like a living room again. It had seemed that this final mourning would be the marker for their lives to settle into a quiet calm for the summer, but this was so much better. Now it would mark the start of the rest of his life. Friday would be the first day of his career as an Auror. A bloody Auror! Who would have ever guessed he'd end up in such an elite line of work?

"If you rip that in half, I'm not going to duplicate you another one," Harry said, sitting on the loveseat with Ginny.

"Oh, shut up, will you?" Ron said, still holding the invitation with both hands. "You always knew you'd end up being an Auror. I didn't think I had a chance."

"Of course you had a chance," Hermione said, her hard tone clashing with what should have been words of encouragement. "You were taking all the right classes, and you would have done well enough on your N.E.W.T.'s to apply." She sat as far from him as she could get on the sofa, her arms crossed and lips pursed. The whole Kreacher situation must have really gotten under her skin to still be upsetting her.

Ron thought it best not to poke the beast. "Maybe, but now I don't have to sit those bloody exams at all. It's fantastic!"

"You should still take the exams, both of you, at least the autumn ones. You need something to fall back on in case you decide to leave the Auror department."

Harry stared at Hermione as if she'd grown a second head. Ron scoffed. "Why would we ever do that?"

"Oh, I don't know," Hermione said in a huff. "Perhaps because being an Auror is an extremely dangerous job, and you've both endangered your lives enough, haven't you? The excitement will wear off, and you'll want to do something more sensible."

"Sensible?" Ron exchanged a look with Harry, double-checking someone else was hearing the same thing. "Since when is being an Auror not a sensible job?"

"Did you miss the part about putting your lives in danger every day?"

"I'm sure not every day. I've seen the paperwork the Ministry puts my dad through. The Auror department can't be any different."

"You're sole job is tracking down Dark Wizards. This wouldn't be just some office job!"

"Bloody hell, I know!" Ron raised his voice to match hers, slamming the invitation into his lap. "But it's not like I had any other plans after Hogwarts. This seems like a pretty _sensible_ thing to do. I can see you transferring out with every department fighting over who gets you, but where else am I going to go?"

"Transferring? Who said I was accepting Kingsley's offer in the first place?"

Ron froze, Hermione's words not processing in his brain. "What d'you mean?"

"I mean, I'm thinking of declining," Hermione said with a nod of finality.

"But…"

Ginny jumped in with a light-hearted tone, saying, "Of course Hermione isn't going to pass up a chance to go back to school and take exams. She actually enjoys learning, unlike the rest of us."

Ron blinked at Hermione, ignoring Ginny's words. She completely missed the point, anyways. He, Harry, and Hermione were a team. Every time they had gone on some adventure at Hogwarts, they did it together. From finding the Philosopher's Stone and the Chamber of Secrets to fighting together at the Department of Mysteries and the Muggle cafe on Tottenham Court Road. He couldn't imagine doing this without her.

Hermione wouldn't meet his gaze, keeping her eyes on Ginny and jumping on the chance to change the subject. "I would at least like the chance to take the N.E.W.T.'s. And to actually graduate. Seems silly to go through six years only to miss graduation by one."

Ginny chuckled. "You know it's a ridiculous idea if Fred and George did it first." There was still what now seemed like an obligatory pause after mentioning Fred's name, but it stung a little less this time.

At least it jolted Ron out of his blank stare. He sunk back into the sofa, strategizing his next move. He shouldn't have been surprised that Hermione wanted to return to Hogwarts and sit her N.E.W.T.'s, but couldn't she see the bigger picture? There were still DeathEaters at large throughout Britain, and the Minister for Magic was asking them _personally _to bring them to justice. How could she say 'no'?

"We'll have to get this out to people as soon as possible," Harry said, motioning towards the pile of duplicated invitations he'd set on the coffee table. "Maybe we can get all the DA together, this weekend maybe. Do you still have your enchanted Galleon, Gin?"

"Always," Ginny said, plucking the gold coin from her pocket. "Though I think sending out owls would be a tad more _sensible_." She and Harry chuckled to themselves as Hermione rolled her eyes. Ron could tell by the set of her lips that the comment bothered her more than she was willing to let on at the moment.

Ginny flipped the Galleon in the air, catching it in her palm before tossing it again. "But I do like the idea of doing something with the DA again. It feels like none of us had much of a chance to celebrate the end of the war, and you three should be the ones celebrating most!"

"Guess the coin isn't as bad of an idea then," Harry said, snatching it out of the air before Ginny could catch it again. "Saturday night then? Seven? At The Leaky Cauldron?"

"That's a little public, isn't it?" Ginny asked, plucking the fake galleon from Harry's hand. "The pub will be swarmed by reporters before we even order a drink."

"The Hog's Head then. Aberforth will love hosting the lot of us."

The two of them laughed as Ginny sent out the message, Harry describing in detail how amazing of a venue the pub would be with its dusty floors and the lingering smell of goats. Meanwhile, Ron and Hermione still sulked in their separate corners of the sofa. Ron had built up enough arguments in his head to last for days. All he needed was an opportunity to bring Kingsley's offer up again.

"Do you think everyone will still have their galleons on them?" Harry asked. "Someone might've lost theirs during the battle."

"We can send a note with Kingsley's invitation in the post too," Ginny said, "but we used these a lot in the last year. Most everyone kept them handy. Besides, I'm sure we'll see plenty of the DA at Hogwarts tomorrow."

The four of them, plus most of Ron's family, had made official plans to travel to Hogwarts the next morning, his dad itching to work on rebuilding the castle. Apparently, word that McGonagall was finally allowing volunteers onto the grounds spread fast because almost all of what remained of the Order of the Phoenix would be there as well.

"Yes, that'll be perfect," Harry said. "And I can find Kreacher before we leave for Andromeda's too. I might need some time to convince him to come with us."

Hermione suddenly jumped up from the sofa and marched around to the stairs, her short curls bouncing with her heavy steps. They heard her stomp all the way up to the second floor and slam the door to her bedroom shut.

Harry sighed, ruffling his hair as he slouched into the cushions. "How long do you think she's going to be mad at me?"

"Oh, she'll get over it," Ginny said with a wave of her hand.

"I dunno. You know how she gets about House Elves. And normally I agree with her!" Harry added quickly. "But even after Dobby was free, he went to Hogwarts to work. I'd free Kreacher if I didn't think it'd kill him. If I'm stuck with him, I'd rather he be somewhere useful."

"And she'll either realize that or not, but either way, she'll have to come to terms with it," Ginny said. "She can't dramatically run out of the room forever."

"She doesn't like Andromeda," Ron said defensively.

"Yeah, we all saw that," Harry grumbled. "She didn't even give her a chance."

"Did you expect her to?" Ron received dubious looks from both Harry and Ginny at his question. "She didn't exactly make a great first impression, did she? Insulting Kreacher as soon as you brought him up?"

"Sounds like she had good reason to," Ginny said.

"And she's not going to act on it," Harry added.

"I'm not disagreeing with you," Ron said, putting up his hands. "All I'm saying is I can see where Hermione is coming from."

"You should go talk to her then," Harry said, waving Ron towards the stairs.

Ron felt a cold sweat at the simple idea of going after Hermione. With him bursting to argue with her about Auror training and her fuming over Harry's decision over Kreacher, a row was sure to ensure. He'd been trying hard _not _to pick a fight with her ever since reading that book about charming witches, but especially in the past week since they'd actually gotten together. The stakes were higher now. He could say the wrong thing, upset her even more. Shit, she could break up with him.

He looked to Ginny, hoping she'd volunteer or at least bail him out, but she shrugged and said, "That's your job now. Welcome to a committed relationship."

Ron groaned, rubbing a heavy hand over his face. "But she's mad at me too."

"Then do you mind casting a Silencing Charm before you go in there?" Ginny asked. "Everyone here would greatly appreciate not having to hear you two yelling at each other for the next hour."

"Fine," Ron said, pushing himself up from the sofa and pointing at Harry and Ginny. "But the two of you are in charge of dinner tonight."

Ginny rolled her eyes, and as Ron started up the stairs, he heard her say to Harry, "Well, you heard him, Potter. What are we eating tonight?"

Ron couldn't hear Harry's response, but Ginny's laughter radiated up the staircase, chasing him up into the silent landing. How the hell did those two do it? They conversed so easily and light-heartedly while he and Hermione trudged along together in their misery. And now that he felt like he had something to be joyful about, they were slammed into an inevitable argument.

When he reached the closed door of Percy's old bedroom, he thought for a moment about walking away. Dread coated his palms in sweat. Maybe if he let her be alone and cool off, everything would be better. Then again, maybe she would refuse to leave her room for the rest of the night, be even angrier in the morning, break up with him, never speak to him or Harry again, and disappear to Australia with her parents forever.

Shit. He needed to fix this _now_.

"Hermione?" he said as he opened the door, ready to slam it shut again if met with a bombing of canaries. No birds attacked him, though. Instead, he found Hermione sitting at the edge of her bed, rubbing tears from her cheeks.

Instinctively, Ron sat beside her and put an arm around her shoulders. He'd gotten used to the way she usually leaned in closer, but this time, she turned her head away from him, then stood to escape his embrace. Fuck, what was he supposed to do now? Talk to her?

_Yes, you git_, Ron thought to himself, though he had no idea where to start. "Hermione… the whole thing with Kreacher–"

"Don't try to tell me it's alright," she said. "It's not right to give him away like a piece of property, especially not to _her_."

She said that last word with the kind of disdain and contempt he'd only ever heard her use towards one other witch. Ron suddenly realized it wasn't only Andromeda's cruel words towards Kreacher that had made Hermione dislike her. "Hermione, she isn't Bellatrix."

"I know that!" Her defensiveness then hesitation afterwards gave her away though. She turned around in a huff, refusing to even look at him. "But you heard the way she spoke about him. She obviously hates him."

"Probably because he tried to kill her more than once," Ron said. "Can't blame her for being worried about bringing him around Teddy."

"Kreacher wouldn't hurt him!" Hermione spun around to face Ron with fire in her eyes.

"_We _know that. Andromeda doesn't have any reason to trust him besides our word."

"And we don't have any reason to trust her besides Harry's word."

Ron couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Since when isn't that enough?"

"He hasn't always been the best judge of character, and he barely knows her himself. He's blindly trusting her just because she has Teddy."

"He's trusting her to take care of Teddy," Ron argued. "If he didn't, you know he'd be trying everything he could to raise him himself. And if Harry can trust her to take care of his godson, we can trust her with a bloody house elf."

"It still doesn't make it right!" She stomped her foot on the ground to accentuate her point.

They had argued over what was right for house elves so many times, Ron fell into his argument easily. "But it's what's best for Kreacher. He was happiest at Grimmauld Place when he was cleaning and cooking for us; it's just what house elves do!"

"And the entire magical community takes advantage of that!"

"What else would you have him do? It's not like he can go out and get a job and buy a house for himself. For Merlin's sake, he looks about two thousand years old and ready to keel over at any moment. Harry's only got the best intentions for him."

"But even he doesn't like Kreacher all that much."

"I don't understand why _you _do, after all that nasty things he's said."

"Because the war was supposed to change things!" Hermione threw her hands down to her sides in frustration.

"It did change things!" Ron stood from the bed, grabbing on to this novel shift in an otherwise run-of-the-mill argument. "It stopped Pureblood supremacy so you can practice magic and be free and not… and not…"

"And not be treated like a House Elf," Hermione finished for him, the steel in her eyes cutting through him. "So I have my freedom but they still don't have theirs? How is that fair?"

"It's not the same thing! House Elves have been serving magical families for centuries–"

"That doesn't make it fair!"

"It's not fair! But I don't know what you want me, or Harry, to do about it right now. Honestly, what do you expect him to do?"

"I expect him to be more sensitive towards Kreacher, especially after Dobby."

Ron threw his hands up in the air. "You're being so bloody unreasonable!"

"Good!" Hermione shouted back. "I'd hate being reasonable towards such an injustice!"

By this time, they stood less than a foot apart, Hermione's hands in front of herself as she accentuated her words and Ron's arms out to the side in a giant gesture of 'I don't know what to do.' Usually at this point in a row, where no solution made itself clear and they had both said all they could say from their side of the argument, one of them would have walked away by now. For the first time, they'd reached this point and stared at each other in silence. Ron grasped at the air with his fingers, as if he could find the right answer floating beside him. Merlin, this hadn't even been the fight he'd been expecting to have. He'd thought this would be a simple task of pointing out that she didn't hate Andromeda, she hated her sister, and they could get on to Kingsley's offer. Was it possible to even steer them back to that at this point?

"I give up," Ron said, throwing up his arms before slapping them to his sides.

Hermione's glare shifted into shocked confusion without losing an ember of the anger. "What?"

"I'm giving up. I forfeit. You win, alright? You want House Elves to be free? I'll sign the fucking petition. But I'm not going to tell my best mate to do or not do something that affects his godson."

He saw something flash in her eyes and swore he knew exactly what was on the tip of her tongue: she was going to accuse him of taking Harry's side like he had accused her of back in November. Now that was definitely not a fight he could win. He would call her out, and she'd point out it wasn't the same, that she'd stuck with Harry for the sake of the Wizarding World. Maybe she'd even call him a horrible boyfriend. Maybe she'd break things off.

As that scene played out in Ron's head, Hermione seemed to think better of her words and swallowed them back down. "Fine," she said, crossing her arms over her chest again.

Ron took a moment to take in her word. "Fine," he repeated, not sure what else to say. Silence stretched between them, their tense postures deflating as the seconds ticked by. Stuck inside his own thoughts, Ron weighed his options of whether to bring up Auror training or not. He wasn't particularly fond of starting another argument at the moment. The satisfaction that used to come from a good row felt lacklustre now. Back at Hogwarts, he was happy when the two of them were getting along, sure, but it also felt slightly bitter as he held back his growing feelings towards her. Their fights were a passionate rush that brought them closer together physically and emotionally. There were other things they could do together to get their hearts racing now, things that only happened when they were happy with each other.

Yes, it was definitely best to smooth things over. "Dinner tomorrow night will sort everything out," he said optimistically. "Seeing Kreacher happy with Andromeda and–"

"I'm not going tomorrow."

Well, so much for smoothing things over. "Why?"

"I'm not going to support this," Hermione said matter-of-factly.

"It's not…" Ron let his words fade before he said something completely wrong. "It… It… It's supporting Harry. And Teddy."

"And the giving over of a House Elf like an object."

Ron stood with his mouth open, not having the energy anymore to think up an argument. He couldn't even say he disagreed with her. "Alright, fine, we won't go to dinner tomorrow. But I'm not the one who's telling Harry."

Hermione blinked at him. "We? You can still go. I know you want to see Teddy again."

"Not without you," he said automatically. "There'll be other chances to see the little blue-haired tyke." He shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Out of nowhere, Hermione ran forward and hugged him around the waist. Thank Merlin, he finally did something right, even if he didn't know exactly what. He wasn't going to pass this up though. He held her close and voiced his thoughts. "I like this better than yelling at each other."

Hermione chuckled. "Me too," she said, looking up at him. "Especially when it's not even you that I'm mad at."

"Could've fooled me," he said, though he couldn't help but smile down at her. When she smiled back, he had to lean down and kiss her quickly on the lips. For the first time, it didn't feel completely right. The unspoken tension of Kinglsey's offer hung around them.

He thought Hermione felt it too. She chewed on her bottom lip as she thought about saying what was one her mind, but then she stepped back. "I should do some reading on construction spells before we go to Hogwarts tomorrow."

Ron felt the moment slipping away, solidified when Hermione jumped and exclaimed, "Oh no, I don't have a wand yet! What am I going to do tomorrow?"

"You can use this one," Ron said, pulling out both wands from his pocket and handing her Wormtail's old wand. "It's not the most well-behaved, but it's better than no wand at all."

"Thanks," Hermione said with a smidge of bitterness, hesitating but then taking the wand. She glanced at the beaded bag on her dresser. "I don't know if I even have any books on how to repair a castle."

"I'm sure you do," Ron said, fiddling with his wand. He hadn't appreciated the familiarity of it before. Hermione twirled the chestnut wand in her hand as well, adjusting her grip on the handle again and again before setting it down. She reached for her bag and glanced at Ron, making him feel like he should do something. "I should see if Harry wants any help sending out those letters," he said, accidentally building on top of the unspoken tension.

"Yes, good," Hermione said with a quick nod. Ron backed out of the bedroom slowly, not at all confident in his decision. He should just get it over with, right? He should gather his courage and tell Hermione he was taking the Auror training and he wanted her to be there too and she could take the N.E.W.T.s in September if she wanted but please don't go back to Hogwarts.

He left the room, shutting the door behind him to give her quiet in her research. An uneasiness not unlike the one he'd felt after leaving Hermione and Harry during their Horcrux hunt turned his stomach upside down. Of course, he knew the right thing wasn't to let this disagreement fester. Things seemed to go better for them when being honest and direct and often their arguments were enjoyable and productive. But Ron found no joy in this disagreement. There were things they could agree to disagree on, but that wasn't an option. He wanted them to both join the Aurors, and she wanted them to both return to Hogwarts, and if they both just did what they wanted, it would mean an entire year apart. That compromise felt like setting up a future where the end to their short-lived relationship was inevitable.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath as he trudged downstairs again. He found Harry and Ginny in the kitchen, addressing envelopes to send out duplicates of Kingsley's invitation. Harry had just suggested adding Oliver Wood to the list when Ron walked in.

Ginny smirked when she saw him. "You're lucky Mum and Dad went out to the shops. Didn't I tell you to cast a Silencing Charm?"

"Shove it," Ron grumbled, out of energy to play nice. "Have you two finished yet?"'

"Actually, we have," Ginny said, tapping the envelopes loudly on the table as she straightened them together.

Ron shrugged, taking a heavy seat next to Harry. "Guess I won't offer to help then."

Ginny rolled her eyes, but Harry finished off Oliver's address before she mumbled another snide comment. "So you talked to Hermione then?"

Ron felt the tips of his ears go red. The last thing he wanted to do was rehash his conversation with Hermione. "Yeah," he said.

"Good," Harry said, thankfully ending the topic before going into it. Ginny was still giving him a look like she knew there was more to it and she wanted to know.

The front door opened and shut, making all of them jump. "Anyone home?" Bill called from the living room, coming into the kitchen a moment later.

"Just us," Ginny said. "And Hermione upstairs somewhere. Mum and Dad should be home soon, though."

"That's alright," Bill said, walking around the table to sit opposite the three of them. "I actually wanted to talk to Harry. Do you remember our discussion about the Gringotts goblins and giving them a gift of goodwill?"

"The Sword of Gryffindor, you mean?" Harry asked. "Yeah, of course."

"Good. Because I've finally gotten them to meet with you, and Ron and Hermione as well. Tuesday, at 9 o'clock sharp. And they're expecting the sword."

Harry nodded, his eyes slightly wide as his gaze drifted away from Bill. "Guess I better figure out where the sword is then."

"You don't have it?"

"No, but I can get." Harry sounded much more confident than Ron would have in his position. The last time he'd seen the sword, Neville had been chopping off a snake's head with it. "We're going to Hogwarts tomorrow, anyways. It might be there."

"Might be?" Bill sighed and ran both of his hands across his face.

"I'll have it by Tuesday, don't worry," Harry said. "It has to be in Hogwarts somewhere. I've faced worse chances of finding an object before."

"Doubt the sword is going to just show up again, though, mate," Ron said, "especially if you're planning on giving it away. If I were it, I'd be hiding from you as best I could."

"I'll find it," Harry said, his voice teetering between determination and annoyance.

"I hope you do," Bill said. "I don't know how much longer Diagon Alley can take."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked. "We wanted to go there before it got too late to mail these at the owl post." He motioned to the pile of envelopes that were too many for one normal-sized owl, let alone Pig.

Bill shook his head. "That would not be a good idea. I'm glad I came in time to stop you. You might've caused a full-blown riot. Diagon Alley has been crawling with people since the war ended, first to celebrate but now to protest Gringotts closing their doors. Not that it's doing much good. No one can get inside, and the crowd could light the entire street on fire and the goblins wouldn't care. Still, people want their money."

"But I thought shops had started reopening?" Ron said, remembering hearing that from someone at one of the funerals they had been to.

"Yeah, that turned out to be a mistake. Shops open but hardly any of their customers have money? People started stealing so much that many shops closed again immediately. Expect Ollivander, I think. I heard he's been giving wands away for free."

Harry's face had clouded over with guilt. "So how are we going to get to Gringotts on Tuesday? Or deliver these?"

"I can handle those." Bill took the pile of envelopes and shoved them into the pocket of his jacket. "I can drop them off before I go home. As for Tuesday, you'll have to glamour yourselves. And we'll use the secret entrance."

"The secret entrance to what?" Hermione appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, holding a large book to her chest.

"To Gringotts!" Ginny answered. "We're going there Tuesday morning."

"You don't have to go, Gin," Bill said. "I doubt the goblins would let you in. It's Harry, Ron, and Hermione that they want to negotiate with."

"Well, I'm not going to just sit around here all day. I'm at least going to Diagon Alley."

"Did you not just hear me explain how unstable Diagon Alley is right now?"

"Are you going to try to stop me?"

Harry smirked, and Bill pointed a finger at him. "Don't encourage her." With a sigh, he looked at his sister and said, "Fine. Do whatever you want," then turned to Hermione. "The goblins have agreed to meet with you _three_ to discuss terms."

"They don't still want a dragon, do they?" she asked, standing next to Ron's chair but not sitting down. "Because they aren't getting one."

"No, they want the sword," Ron said.

"And possibly a dragon," Bill said a tad reluctantly. Even a man as brave and adventurous as Bill flinched at Hermione's glare. "They haven't given up on that yet."

"They're going to be disappointed then," Hermione said in a steely voice. "I won't agree to that."

"Then you better find another solution before Tuesday." Bill sounded more tired than Ron ever remembered his eldest brother being. "Right now, the goblins hold all of the power. If the bank stays closed, there will be riots. Or worse. The entire British Wizarding World could collapse. At this point, Kingsley is willing to give them anything they want."

"They aren't getting a dragon."

Ron wasn't sure if Bill completely understood the determination brewing inside of Hermione. There was no doubt in Ron's mind that she would figure this out, maybe by tonight. He smiled at her. Merlin, his girlfriend was fantastic. He couldn't lose her.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Soooo it's been a hot minute since I last posted a chapter. I needed some time away from this story to sort out where to go from here. I'm two chapters ahead in my writing and was starting to feel a little overwhelmed with the length of this story. Originally, I only expected this fic to be about seven or eight chapters long, but now I'm at that point and not feeling at all close to the end. I took some time to actually figure out an outline and plan ahead (twelve chapters if you're curious), and get myself excited for this story again.

Anyways, all that said, I hope you enjoy this long-overdue next chapter. I really enjoyed getting to write a famous Ron/Hermione argument. I promise more kissing for the next chapter. :) As always, thank you so much for all the support for this story, from reviews to faves to follows. I really feel like I've found my direction with this story again so hopefully will update again soon!


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven: To Face The Terror**

Hogwarts castle resembled the broken-down building Hermione imagined Muggle's saw when looking at the school. Giant chunks were missing from the walls, almost every window had cracked or shattered, and she even thought an entire tower could be missing. The battle had often felt like the apocalypse, and the castle looked like the aftermath. The couple of spells Hermione had researched the day before would be nothing in the face of this mess.

Hermione arrived at Hogwarts with Ron, Harry, Ginny, and Mr and Mrs Weasley early in the morning, just as the sun rose over the lake. They couldn't be certain if reporters would be an issue at the gates, so they erred on the side of caution by coming as close to dawn as Professor McGonagall would allow. She met them at the gate and led them up to the school while discussing all she and other staff members had done to make the castle as safe as possible but also warning that the entire sight was unstable. None of them could have disagreed, seeing the state of things.

The front doors hung ajar, and Hermione was careful not to jostle them as she walked through. Though the day after the battle blurred in her memory, she thought the entrance hall looked just the same as it had when they left Hogwarts nearly a fortnight ago. Debris scattered the floor, and birds fluttered about somewhere in the high ceiling.

Professor McGonagall led them into the Great Hall where no torches or candles were needed to see the four tables lined up, bare but clean. A lot of work had gone into making at least this one space seem put back together, even if it echoed with emptiness. Instead of the usual high table at the front, a model of Hogwarts stood on top of a large square table, complete with a miniature Forbidden Forest and floating lake just below the edge of the table. It appeared these bits were white while the entire castle was red until closer inspection. Though most of the outer castle was red, much of the centre was white. The Great Hall, where they stood now, was a bright blue, along with a few spots that speckled the castle. Very, very few.

"As you can see, there is much work to be done," Professor McGonagall explained as they circled the model.

Mr Weasley clapped his hands as if he'd just been handed a long-awaited project. "Then the sooner we get started the better."

"I actually have a task in mind for you, Arthur," Professor McGonagall said, "if you're up to mending a few portraits who seem to have forgotten how to move."

"Of course!" Mr Weasley nearly toppled over the entire table in his exuberance.

Professor McGonagall smiled, then put back on a stern frown as she turned to Hermione, Ron, Harry, and Ginny. "You four stay put until I come back," she said before taking Mr and Mrs Weasley out of the Great Hall.

"It's almost like she doesn't trust us," Harry muttered, exchanging a look with the three of them before they all laughed.

"And look," Ginny said, motioning to the entrance of the hall, "the great snake-slayer has returned to his battlegrounds."

Neville waved heartedly as he jogged up to them, looking much cleaner and less bloody than the last time they'd seen him. Though they'd been at a few of the same funerals, they always ducked out too early to socialize even with friends. "Morning!" he said with a cheery smile. "Thought I'd be the first one here."

Ginny smirked. "You expected to beat the great Harry Potter, Boy Who Lived and Savior of the Wizarding World? Merlin, you lead one rebellion and think you can do it all."

Neville blushed and shrugged away the comment. "Couldn't have done it without you."

"I can't take much credit after missing what seemed like an exciting final month. Harry said you were hiding out in the Room of Requirement so the Carrows couldn't murder you."

"It was no big deal. They were trying to kill at least half a dozen of us by the end."

"Well, we're glad you were too clever for them," Ron said, clapping Neville on the back. "So why are you here so early? Avoiding the reporters too?"

"Nah, they don't really care about me. I wanted to get out of the Leaky Cauldron before anyone else woke up, though."

"The Leaky Cauldron?" Harry asked. "What are you doing there? And who's everyone else?"

"Long story." Neville motioned them all to sit at the end of what was usually the Ravenclaw table. "Not all of us had places to go after the battle. Gran's house is rubble now, so she's staying with my Uncle Augustin. I wasn't too keen on staying there myself. Not a huge fan of my uncle since the whole dropping me out of a window incident.

"Anyways, inns all over England are filling up with people whose homes have been destroyed, and a couple DA members, including me, managed to get rooms at the Leaky Cauldron before demand went up. Let's see, originally it was just me and Dean. His mum doesn't even know there was a war if you can believe it. Though I guess it's different when you're parents are Muggles." Neville glanced at Hermione, and she quickly nodded and gestured for him to continue. "And then Hannah and Susan showed up. I don't suppose you know everything that happened to them last year."

Neville looked to Ginny, who shook her head. "There's been so much bad news, I haven't filled them in on everything."

"Are they okay?" Harry asked. Hermione imagined Harry was doing the same as her and racking his brain for any memory of those two at the battle, alive or dead.

"Physically, they're fine," Neville said, then sighed heavily. "I feel like I shouldn't be the one to share their stories, and I can only summarize, of course. Well, you know how Hannah's mum was killed our sixth year? Apparently, her father tried giving up magic after that happened, blaming himself I suppose. And Hannah gave it up too for a bit, but when the new school year started, attendance was mandatory. The Carrows fetched her themselves. More like kidnapped her, actually. Plus, they threw her dad into Azkaban for good measure. He's out now, of course, but he's more adamant than ever about leaving the magical world while Hannah wants to stay."

Hermione's head whirred with this new information, her heart tugging for Hannah. She couldn't imagine being in a position where she had to choose between her parents or her magic. And honestly, that could still be a possibility. What if after she revived her parents' memories, they were afraid of magic? What if they were afraid of her?"

"And Susan, I, uh, don't know the whole story. Her dad was killed by DeathEaters over the summer, and over Christmas, her mum died too. Suicide. So…" Neville trailed off, his hands laying palms-up on top of the table.

He took a deep breath before continuing. "Well, they're both staying at the Leaky Cauldron too. Tom didn't have any more room, so Dean gave up his and is sharing with me. Seamus drops by a few times a day, but he's mostly staying with his parents. His mum tried going along with the new Ministry rules, and the Muggle-born Registration Commission oblivated his dad's memory and sent him back to the Muggle world. His mum has been trying to restore it, but they did a shoddy job and really messed up his head."

Hermione's thoughts strayed towards her own parents, wondering how shoddy her spellcasting might have been, but Neville went on before she could spiral too much. "And Lee Jordan and Katie Bell are both there as well. I'll start forgetting names if I try to remember everyone. Oh, but you'll be interested to now that Cormac McLaggen has been popping around a lot."

Both Hermione and Ron stiffened at the name, their faces scrunched up in disgust. "Why's McLaggen hanging around?" Harry asked, a sneer in his voice as well.

"Honestly, I think he might fancy Susan."

"Poor girl," Hermione muttered.

"He's not the worst," Neville said with a shrug. "I can't defend him completely, but he did fight in the battle."

Ron scoffed. "When? We didn't see him."

"He came with the second wave. Apparently, he got a job at the Ministry, and when news spread about the battle, he was one of the first to leave. Guess he's a Gryffindor after all." No else seemed convinced of that, so Neville moved on quickly. "Well, I think the whole DA is planning on coming today, so you'll at least be able to see everyone again. Except Lavender, of course. She's still at St Mungo's."

"She's alive?" Hermione asked, flashes of Lavender's bloodied throat in her mind. There had been so many deaths that Hermione had assumed they simply hadn't been invited to the funeral, and she must have missed the absence of her name in the list of the fallen the Prophet had published. She'd simply assumed, after witnessing Fenrir Greyback's mauling, that Lavender couldn't have survived.

Neville nodded. "Wasn't sure she would make it there for a while. From witnesses, the Healer's thought she was safe from being turned into a werewolf, but Greyback must've been partially transformed or simply that far gone. There was a full moon last night, and she caused quite a lot of chaos in her ward. Plus, she reopened all of her freshly healed wounds, which turned out to be a good thing for the rest of St Mungo's. Nearly bleeding out even slows down a terrified werewolf."

"Wow," Ron said, his pale skin now a tint of green.

"Yeah… they've moved her to a more secure room. No one really knows where. She's not allowed visitors anymore. Though she refused to let anyone but family and Pavarti visit her before then, so not much has changed. Still feel bad for her though, stuck in the hospital all alone."

"I hope she'll be okay," Ginny said. "She taught me a lot of healing spells during our revived DA meetings. And she was always so optimistic about things getting better."

Hermione felt like she'd been pushed out of the loop. Her memories of Lavender were much different from Neville and Ginny's. If it wasn't her mangled form, it was her arms tangled in Ron's hair as she kissed him. She felt ashamed at not being more observant over Lavender's state, or even whether she was alive or dead.

"Nice to see you've all finally learned to listen," Professor McGonagall said as she approached their table with a smile. "Good to see you again, Mr Longbottom."

"You too, professor. Have you got a plan for us?"

"I wish I had a better one," Professor McGonagall admitted, bringing the group of them back over to the model of Hogwarts. "As you might have already figured out, this is a live model of the castle's structure. The blue parts have been completely restored, which at the moment, is only this room. We wanted at least one safe spot for everyone to gather in. The white indicates where the structure has been stabilized, and you can see we've started at the centre and are working our way out. And the red areas are where the castle is unstable. No one but a few of the staff that have been working on the structural integrity are allowed in these areas." She gave Harry a pointed look.

"Stay in the white areas. Got it," Harry said with a guilty grin.

Professor McGonagall pursed her lips, obviously not completely believing him. "And don't go anywhere alone," she added. "Just in case."

"Think we can manage that," Ron said. "And Hermione knows all the spells we need."

Colour flushed Hermione's cheeks. She'd only been able to find a few construction charms the day before. After Ron left her room, she had tried to settle down with a charms book, but the silence of the empty room crept up on her with every minute that passed. She'd only managed to browse through a few pages before having to leave the room. Her guilt only doubled when Professor McGonagall said, "I wouldn't expect anything else. Professor Flitwick and I will be making rounds as well if you find yourselves stuck."

"Should we get started then?" Harry asked eagerly.

"If you want, I won't stop you," Professor McGonagall said, "though I don't think anyone else will be here for another hour or so. And, I almost forgot, Professor Sprout specifically asked if you would join her in the greenhouses, Mr Longbottom."

Neville stood up straight. "She asked for me?"

"Pomona Sprout doesn't trust just anyone with her plants."

"Brilliant," Neville muttered, his eyes as bright as Harry's now. Both of them looked ready to sprint out of the Hall, so Ginny made the parting move by pointing out the nearest white area on the model castle and suggesting they start there. Once in the Entrance Hall again, Neville really did sprint away, shouting over his shoulder that he'd meet up with them again later.

Hermione, Ron, Harry, and Ginny made their way up the grand marble staircase, avoiding the still broken bits. That work seemed a little too delicate for their experience in construction charms, so they moved on to the nearest corridor. Besides a few fallen portraits and suits of armour, the worst damage seemed to be the door of the first classroom, which had been blasted off its hinges. The splintered wood lay scattered across the floor of the classroom, and the frame was missing quite a few chunks. Ron released a few balls of light from his Deluminator into the dark classroom and revealed the mess of desks and chairs and chalkboards. Along one wall was a large gruesome picture of figures being burned at the stake.

"Isn't this the Muggle Studies classroom?" Hermione asked, wondering if she'd lost her bearings so much she'd mixed up this classroom with History of Magic.

"Yeah," Ginny said bitterly, "not that you could count what Carrow taught as Muggle Studies. It felt more like an introductory lesson in being a blood purist. We had to recite the names of all the Pureblood families." She pointed out a framed document of the Sacred Twenty-Eight list. A few names, including Abbott and Weasley, had both been crossed out. "If you refused, sometimes you got detention, and sometimes she'd pick someone out to torture you until you did."

"That's awful," Hermione said, the only one able to say anything. Ron and Harry had both gone quiet.

Ginny shrugged. "I watched more than went through the torture myself. That was the awful part. Neville took the brunt of it. The Carrows really hated him."

Harry kicked at a piece of rubble, his shoulders sagging down as he sulked. Ginny took notice and said, "Anyways, the past is the past. We should get started."

Hermione wished she could leave behind the past as easy as that instead of relying on Calming Draught to get to sleep every night. At least teaching the other three the charms needed to repair the doorway took her mind off of her frustrations with herself. The spells were simple enough, doubling pieces of rubble to make up from the bits that were dusted away then using all the pieces to repair the walls. Everyone caught on quickly, and the four of them went from working together to muttering to themselves to falling silent as they repeated the same spells again and again until doing them nonverbally came naturally.

By the time they'd finished repairing the corridor and setting the suits of armour and portraits right, other people began to arrive. At first, only members of Dumbledore's Army came through, stopping to chat for a short time before moving on to their own tasks, but soon other alumni spotted Harry and were a tad less respectful. Oliver Wood lamented the burnt Quidditch pitch more than any loss of life, and Romilda Vane's mum berated Harry for not doing a proper interview with the Daily Prophet.

"I think it's about time we asked Neville about Gryffindor's sword," Harry said, glaring after a family they didn't even know who'd asked for pictures and autographs.

"You go ahead," Hermione said, testing the newly repaired door to the Muggle Studies classroom. "I'd like to finish in here before lunch."

"Yeah, we won't be recognized as much with you gone," Ron said with a teasing grin. Hermione hadn't expected Ron to stay but felt her heart warm at how automatic his response had been.

"Well, I'm not missing out on any more adventures," Ginny said, jumping to take Harry's arm. "We should see if our secret passage down to the lake is still there."

As she pulled Harry away down the corridor, Ron blinked after them. "_Their _secret passage?"

"Probably best not to think too much about it," Hermione said and tugged at his sleeve. "We should get to work before anyone else comes through."

Ron nodded and followed her into the disastrous classroom. "Think we should start by getting rid of these," Ron said and Vanished the framed list of surnames and the grotesque portrait of burning witches.

Hermione conjured a broom to start on the dusting while she and Ron sorted through the desks and chairs and blackboards, repairing and cleaning as needed. Time passed quickly as they worked, the sun through the windows glowing brightly by the time they'd set all the desks back into place. The enchanted broom settled into the corner with its mountain of dirt. Ron went over to get rid of it while Hermione went to the back of the classroom where a large bookshelf had been toppled over. It used to contain all sorts of Muggle literature, but the few titles she'd read of the books that had fallen out of it were far more sinister.

She flicked her wrist to right the shelf, yelping when a figure popped out from underneath it. The bookcase fell backwards and crashed to the floor.

"Hermione?" Ron's voice sounded behind her, but she couldn't take her eyes off of the man now standing in front of her. His curly brown hair flopped off to the side of his face in a perfect spiral. The brown eyes behind his glasses matched her own.

"Dad?" The logical part of her mind churned slowly, processing this impossibility. Her dad couldn't possibly be in England, let alone in Hogwarts under a bookcase. No, this wasn't happening. But her heart raced ahead of her head, and it wanted desperately to see her father again.

He stepped towards her, his head tilted in confusion. "Who are you?"

"Dad, it's me. It's Hermione, your daughter. Hermione."

"No, no, I haven't got a daughter."

"Yes, you do. It's me. I put a memory charm on you to keep you safe, but I can remove it. I can make you remember again!"

As she reached forward, her father stepped away. "Who would want to remember a daughter who would curse her own parents?"

"No," Hermione whispered, her cheeks wet with tears. As her fingers neared her father's jacket, a large freckled hand grabbed her wrist and stopped her.

Hermione jumped and tried to yank her hand out of the grasp, but Ron held tight. "Hermione, it's a boggart," he said, his voice coming from right behind her. His other arm wrapped around her waist to still her struggles.

"No… no…" She couldn't stop repeating the word as she stared at her father's stern face. She shook her head, not wanting this to be true while also wanting it more than anything. Finally, she shut her eyes, unable to look any longer. That gave Ron's words time to bring her back to reality and to step back away from the boggart.

Ron brought her behind him, stepping between her and the boggart. From behind his shoulder and gripping the back of his shirt, she watched her father pause then suddenly melt into a woman with wild black hair and hooded eyes.

For a moment, Hermione thought they must have confused the boggart. Out of the two of them, she didn't expect Ron's worst fear to be Bellatrix Lestrange, but his arm that held his wand pointed straight at the boggart wavered. After a moment though, he took a breath and lifted his arm, ready to cast the spell, when Bellatrix opened her mouth and screamed.

They both covered their ears against the shocking noise, then Ron fell to his knees as well. Hermione, who'd squeezed her eyes shut, opened them to see that Bellatrix had disappeared and instead a body lay on the floor. Blood pooled around its slit throat, reminding Hermione of Lavender until she noticed the dead girl's bushy hair. Was that…?

"What the hell?"

Hermione turned around and saw Ginny sprinting towards them, Harry following behind. She ran in front of Ron, wand out. The dead body shrunk into a small leather book that Ginny sent flying into the nearest cabinet with a flick of her wand. Harry slammed the cabinet door shut and cast a locking spell to trap the boggart inside.

Ginny whipped around and crouched in front of her brother, grabbing him by the shoulders. "Ron, are you alright?"

His skin was about five shades whiter than normal, and sweat dampened the back of his shirt. He'd dropped his wand, and Harry scooped it up from halfway across the room.

Hermione still trembled, but she touched the back of his neck with a shaky hand as she kneeled beside him. "It's okay, Ron," she said. "We're okay."

Something seemed to click inside his head as he glanced between Hermione and Ginny. He squeezed his eyes shut, took a deep breath, then opened them again, his whole body relaxing. "I… I…"

"You don't have to explain," Ginny said, her hands sliding off of his shoulders. "We all get it." She turned and transfigured the cabinet into a small, easy-to-carry box. After summoning it, she hugged the violently shaking box to her chest and looked to Harry. "Let's get rid of this."

Harry nodded, then handed Ron back his wand. He squeezed Ron's shoulder while Ginny said, "We'll be right back to help you finish off this room. Then it's lunch!" She gave a slightly forced optimistic smile before leading Harry out of the room. Hermione thought she heard Harry asking if they should really be leaving, but Ginny kept quiet as she shut the door behind them.

Ron sunk back to sit on the floor, his legs bent in front of him. His arms rested against his knees, and Hermione took his nearest hand with her own while keeping her other on his shoulder. Color returned to his face, his freckles standing out less and less as his breathing steadied again. "I was expecting a spider."

"I thought the boggart was still reacting to me," Hermione admitted.

"That was the most scared I've been in my entire life," Ron said, taking her hand in both of his. He finally looked at her again, and she saw the streak of a single tear dried on his cheek. "I thought I was too late."

Her thumb rubbed against his jawline, grazing the spot where his tear had fallen. "You weren't. You saved my life."

"It was more a group effort," Ron said with a shrug.

"No." Hermione leaned closer and grabbed the edge of his chin so he couldn't look away. "It's you I remember. Your voice calling to me and giving me something else to concentrate on. And you pulled me out from under the chandelier. And then you slept on the floor at Shell Cottage in case I had another nightmare, which I always did. That's all you, and only you."

The edge of his mouth twitched into an almost smile, and his hand fluttered out of her hold and drifted up to neck. His thumb gently traced her scar. Her breath caught in her throat, then she crushed her lips against his.

Ron responded in an instant, his fingers disappearing into her hair while his other arm grabbed her waist. Their limbs tangled for a moment as they grappled for purchase and pulled to get closer. Hermione tried to find a position to relieve her knees from digging into the hard floor, and with a frustrated growl, she threw out her caution and lifted herself into Ron's lap, her legs straddling his waist. Ron hummed in satisfaction and pressed her close.

The indecency of the situation no longer mattered. This was so much more important. Ron needed to hold her like this to be reassured that she was indeed alive and safe and would be staying that way for the foreseeable future, and she needed him too. Like this, he held her together and kept her inside her body instead of floating away.

His kisses ventured away from her lips, marking a path down her jaw to her neck. If she'd lost her breath when he'd touched her scar before, the air in her lungs was obliterated from existence when his lips kissed the front of her throat. She gripped the back of his shirt, and a whimper escaped her. The sound surprised and embarrassed her, but it only seemed to encourage Ron. His tongue darted out to suckled at the sensitive skin beneath her jaw.

The dusty classroom faded from Hermione's awareness, her mind consumed by the waves of pleasure shivering up her body with his every movement. If she could have turned into water and be absorbed by him, she would have.

A loud bell sounded through the halls, surprising Hermione enough to lose her balance and fall backwards. Ron's arms stopped her from hitting the ground, but her bum hit the ground hard. The pain of a surely bruised tailbone was more than enough to jolt Hermione out of the blissful cloud encompassing them. Her breathing still laboured, she glanced up at him through her lashes to see his grin. "I guess it's time for lunch."

She laughed, dropping her head against his chest. His chuckles rumbled against her temple, his arms still around her and giving no sign of letting go. As he rested his chin on top of her head, he said, "You were right, you know."

"What about?"

"Snogging makes it better."

Hermione didn't need to ask what the 'it' was. "For a little while, at least," she said, finally pulling away to meet his eyes again. She wanted to suggest heading back to the Great Hall, but his gaze stopped her. Her lungs forgot to work again for a different, somehow more intense reason. His hand grazed the side of her face and cupped her jaw, his eyes flickering between her own and her neck. It seemed he might be building up the courage to say something, but before he could, she broke eye contact and wiggled herself out of his arms. It definitely wasn't a graceful disentanglement as she scooted backwards and lifted her legs from around Ron's, with little help from the dazed owner of said legs. When she finally managed to get herself up off the floor and reach a hand down to help Ron, he seemed to have come back to himself and took her hand gladly. Even that small amount of contact felt like electricity, and Hermione had to strongly resist the urge to fling herself back into his arms.

"Didn't you two hear the bell?" Ginny said loudly as she marched back into the room, Harry as hesitant behind her as if he expected a Basilisk to be around the corner. Hermione snatched her hand out of Ron's grasp, the feelings it elicited indecent in front of company. "We're going to the kitchen for lunch if you want to join."

"The kitchens?" Ron asked. "Why not the Great Hall?"

"Harry's trying to avoid a standing ovation," Ginny said with a smirk.

Harry tossed her an annoyed look. "Or any sort of unnecessary disruption. Everyone could start throwing things at me too."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "You can either have a hero's complex or be ignorantly humble. You don't get both." Harry teasingly glared at her, and Ginny responded by sticking her tongue out at him before turning back to Hermione and Ron. "So, are you coming? Or should we leave you alone here for another couple of hours?"

Hermione's cheeks blazed, wondering if Ginny was simply that observant or if she and Harry had seen something before announcing their presence. "You go on to the kitchens. We'll go down to the Great Hall."

"We will?" Ron asked.

"Well, I'm not going down to the kitchens," Hermione said, her defensiveness flaring up easily. "I assume you're going to be telling Kreacher about his new home while your down there?" she asked Harry.

"Probably," Harry said with a challenging edge to his voice.

"And you haven't changed your mind?"

"Nope."

"Then I guess we'll catch up with you later."

Hermione crossed her arms, holding on to her resolve despite the uneasy shuffling going on around her. Harry kept staring even as he said, "We've got to see Professor McGonagall about the sword afterwards."

"But we'll find you again before we leave for Andromeda's," Ginny cut in with a smile that attempted to defuse the tension in the room. "Promise."

"Sounds good," Ron said, exchanging a nod with Harry that Hermione new communicated more than she could even begin to guess. They left the Muggle Studies classroom together, heading down the corridor and the grand staircase together quietly. They split in the Entrance Hall, Harry and Ginny disappearing down another corridor while the noise coming from the Great Hall stopped Hermione and Ron's progress. "Sure you don't want to just go down to the kitchens?" Ron asked.

Hermione shook her head. "No, it'll be fine." She took a deep breath and marched forward, Ron just behind her. Luckily, everyone seemed to be too distracted with their food and conversation to notice them at first. Considering how crowded the room was, half of the people in there wouldn't have been able to see them slip in if they'd been looking right at the door. A few heads turned their way as they skirted around the wall, looking for an empty space. Luna waved them over, making room at the table she sat with Dean, Seamus, Neville, and Hannah.

A ripple spread out through the crowd as they sat, but no one made a huge commotion over their presence. Conversation flowed as easily as old times between their table, sharing stories and catching up. Even when more serious or dark topics cropped up, they moved on quickly and kept things as light as possible. When they returned to the halls of Hogwarts, Hermione and Ron stayed with Dean, Seamus, and Luna while Neville returned to the greenhouses and Hannah to the Hospital Wing. The mood of the day lifted significantly as the five of them worked together, the rest of the day slipping away.

As promised, Harry and Ginny found them a couple of hours later, the Sword of Gryffindor in Harry's possession again. They lent a hand before heading off Andromeda's. Neither of them mentions Kreacher, and Hermione didn't ask, though she assumed he'd be going with them.

Another bell brought them all back to the Great Hall again for a glorious dinner that Hermione hadn't been expecting. Though, as Luna pointed out, many of the people lending a hand at Hogwarts were still in grieving over their individual losses and not having to think about meals was probably a huge blessing for many of them. Ron agreed, grateful he wouldn't have to be cooking for his family that night since he'd sort of taken over since the end of the war.

After a simple course of puddings, Professor McGonagall sent them all home, refusing to let anyone stay. They said their goodbyes and returned to the Burrow exhausted. Mr and Mrs Weasley went to bed immediately, but Hermione and Ron tried to stay up and wait for Harry and Ginny to come home. They broke out the chessboard, but about halfway through the game, Ron's pieces rioted against his poor directions and refused to play further. Hermione decided they better call it a night.

When she crawled into bed, Hermione thought her body would fall straight to sleep. Her legs were sore from standing all day, her wrist ached from all the swishing and flicking, and her tailbone still felt tender from her fall. As soon as the lights went off, though, her brain went into high alert. Every little creak made her heart skip, and the shadows from her window unsettled her nerves. She jolted upright when she heard footsteps on the staircase, the chestnut wand in her hand before she remembered that Harry and Ginny still hadn't gone to bed.

She huffed as she stared up at the ceiling, her frustration mixing with her anxiety until sleep seemed absolutely impossible. Her nightstand taunted her, reminding her that inside its drawer was the last bit of Calming Draught she'd allotted herself. Only one more swallow remained in the phial, and Hermione had been saving it for a bad night. Tonight was not going to be that night.

Hermione closed her eyes, refusing to open them again. Perhaps by her sheer force of will, sleep eventually took over. The nightmare followed soon after, the same as always. She couldn't see anything, but she heard Bellatrix's taunts and felt her curses. It wasn't an accurate memory, as Bellatrix brought up more than the Sword of Gryffindor. In the dream, she sometimes also told her the DeathEaters had kidnapped Hermione's parents or that the entire Weasley family had been murdered or even that they were holding Crookshanks hostage. On this night, though, Bellatrix threatened to bring Ron up from the cellar and let him 'join the fun'. Hermione made a sudden move in the dream, trying to find a physical space to fight against Bellatrix, but she woke with a start as she rolled off her bed.

She'd tangled herself in her blankets enough to dull her fall, but her knee stung from where it had hit the ground. The terror still gripped her, and she stayed on the ground for a while as she remember where she was and that she was safe. She shakily sat up, checked that her knee had only been bumped and wasn't bleeding, then leaned her back against the bed.

The bedroom door swung open, Harry and Ginny's faces illuminated by their lit wands. "Hermione," Harry said, rushing towards her, "what happened? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she grumbled, embarrassment chasing away the last bit of fear. "Just fell out of bed."

Harry helped her back to her feet while Ginny gathered the fallen blankets and tossed them back onto the bed. "You really scared us," Ginny said. "Thought a rogue DeathEater had broken in or something. Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes, yes, everything is fine," Hermione said again as she straightened out the blankets again and tucked them in neatly. "I guess I was tossing and turning a lot. Bad dream." She muttered this last part, not looking at either Harry or Ginny.

They both nodded in understanding, and Ginny asked, "Do you want some Calming Draught?"

"I have some," Hermione said quickly, cutting Ginny off. She sighed, turning back to face them. "I'm sorry I woke you, but everything's fine. Really."

"Alright," Harry said as he started backing out of the room. "We can get Ron if you want–"

"No." She hadn't meant for the word to come out with such force, but she was desperate to be alone again and figure this out herself. "I'm fine. Go back to bed."

Harry took a few more steps back, ready to run. Ginny gave her hand a squeeze and smiled at her reassuringly. "Goodnight, then," she said before ushering Harry out of the room.

Alone in the dark again, Hermione reached for the chestnut wand and cast Lumos. She reached into the nightstand and brought out her phial of Calming Draught. Tonight didn't feel like an emergency, but they would be headed to Gringotts tomorrow morning and she still didn't have a plan to convince the goblins that they didn't need another dragon. When she'd tried to research solutions the day before, she couldn't settle her mind enough after her fight with Ron to concentrate on reading. She'd found herself worrying about all the danger he'd be putting himself in as an Auror then her thoughts would drift to Kreacher and how she could convince Harry not to give him to Andromeda. With the lack of sleep she was getting lately, her mind was too scattered to focus on one thing for too long.

This meeting tomorrow was important, and she needed to be alert for it. Her emergency stash hadn't lasted long, but she told herself it would be fine. She needed to find another solution that didn't rely on a potion. Just one more night.

She swallowed the last drops of Calming Draught, instantly feeling the tension in her body ease. Hermione tucked herself back into bed, her mind blank and at peace.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Happy quarantine everyone! I wasn't going to post this chapter until I'd finished the next one, but considering the state of the world, I wanted to do my part by giving you all the longest (and my favourite) chapter yet. Hope everyone is staying happy and healthy out there! I did almost reach my goal am finishing up the last scene of the next chapter (which is even longer than this one, yikes!), so look forward to that. A big chocolate-covered thank you to everyone sticking with this story :)


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight: To Find Happiness In Small Moments**

"Try the blond hair again. I think it suits him more." Ginny smirked at Harry while Ron, chuckling to himself, changed Harry's hair back from a bright Weasley red to a blond as pale as a Malfoy.

Harry blew one of the long locks out his face. "Are you done yet?"

"I dunno," Ginny said with a mischievous smile. "I kind of want to see the brown again."

"Come on, Gin. We have to leave soon," Bill said. He leaned against the fireplace in his Gringotts robes while reading through his notes. They, meaning mostly Harry and Bill, had already discussed their plan for negotiating with the goblins, and he was the last one that needed to be disguised with a glamour. Before Bill had arrived, the four of them had been having a grand time messing about with glamour charms and changing each other's appearances. Ginny had been victim to their whims since she couldn't retaliate, but after Harry had given her Rita Skeeter-esque curls, he'd promised she could direct Ron and Hermione to do her worst to him. Ron thought he might be regretting that now.

"Fine," Ginny said with a heavy sigh, walking to Harry and sitting on his lap. She twirled a strand of pale hair through her fingers. "The blond is rather fetching."

Ron made a gagging sound and pointedly looked away. Hermione laughed at whatever Harry and Ginny's reaction was, the long blonde pigtails he had given her swinging around her face. Even with her altered appearance, her smile distracted him from everything else. That light simple happiness had been so rare, not just the last week but the entire last year. In fact, since the end of the war, he'd started seeing that smile more and more, and the sight tugged at his heart each time.

Really, everything she did brought as much warmth to his chest as the deluminator light had when it brought him back to her. Especially since yesterday. After she'd witnessed his horrific boggart, there wasn't any hiding how strong his feelings towards her were. Not that he'd been trying to hide them, but he still felt excruciatingly exposed. Every touch and every look between them sent a sweet jolt through his veins. It ignited both hesitance and desire.

There was no denying something had shifted between them. Even while working with Luna, Dean, and Seamus the previous day, he'd lost count of the number of times they'd caught each other's eye or accidentally on purpose bumped into each other. It had taken all his self-control not to leap across the chessboard and snog her last night, and he'd been so distracted that even his pieces had noticed. He hadn't even kissed her goodnight in case the temptation of her empty bedroom was too much.

"We should head off then," Bill said, pushing himself off of the wall. "The last thing we need is to be late."

They headed off in their temporary disguises. Harry's hair was long and covered most of his face to obscure his scar and glasses while Ginny, obviously inspired by Tonks, had gone with a pixie-cut. Bill had drawn the line at bubblegum pink, saying it was too conspicuous, so it was a simple brown that matched Ron's, who also had a comically large beard that rivalled Hagrid's thanks to Harry. Though Ron had thought the plaited pigtails and large square glasses would be comical, Hermione still brought butterflies to his stomach.

Merlin, he was pathetic.

They Apparated straight to the Leaky Cauldron, the pub quite abuzz for half-past eight in the morning, then headed into Diagon Alley. The usually busy streets were empty except for a few loiterers. Most of the shops had signs in the windows announcing temporary closers or limited hours. A rumble sounded from the far end of the street, and in the distance, Ron could see a dense crowd gathered outside Gringotts. He could sense their restlessness from there. They shouted in chants and bustled against each other in a constant wave.

"This way," Bill said, making a sudden turn down an alley and ignoring the crowd. Ron, Hermione, and Harry exchanged guilty looks before following in a rush. They'd really made a mess of things.

They went around to the back of the shops, and Bill pointed down the path. "Wheezes is just a bit down that way," Bill said to Ginny who'd already made plans with George to hang around the shop while the rest of them went to Gringotts.

"Good luck with the goblins. Try not to steal anything this time," she called over her shoulder as she jogged away.

Bill led Ron, Harry, and Hermione in the opposite direction and to a door that looked like it would lead to one of the flats upstairs. Instead, it opened to a staircase that went down. And down. And down.

"Are we walking straight into the vaults?" Ron asked, only half jokingly.

"Not exactly," Bill said. "Though they are connected. The goblins built this way back when the bank was first constructed. They still don't trust wizards all that much, so they created an escape route just in case something like… well, in case something like these exact circumstances happened."

"Glad at least someone was prepared," Harry muttered.

After what seemed like an endless amount of stairs, they finally reached the bottom and a set of rails that disappeared into a dimly lit tunnel. Something rattled inside, spiking Ron's uneasiness as he imagined a flood of coins streaming in to drown them. Instead, a Gringotts cart glided towards them, stopping right in front of Bill. "All aboard," he said, ushering them in before taking a seat at the front.

The cart zoomed across the floor and into the tunnels, the lighting growing dimmer and dimmer until they were in pitch blackness. Hermione fumbled for his hand, and his heartbeat pounded in his ears.

After a minute or two, the track began winding up and the torches on the wall became more frequent. The cart stopped abruptly at a platform, and the four of them jumped out. "Wait here," Bill instructed. "I'll see if they're ready for us. And, actually, now would be a good time to remove your glamour charms. You'll seem much more trustworthy looking like yourselves."

As Bill shut the door behind him, the click echoing down the tunnel, the three of them quickly countered all their hard work from this morning. Once they'd gotten themselves back to normal, and Harry had finished lamenting how disappointed Ginny would be that all her careful decision-making hadn't lasted long, they still had several more minutes of waiting. Ron shuffled his feet, feeling like a child again when he'd been too young to join his brothers on the cart ride through Gringotts. Knowing all those goblins were on the other side of the door made him as uneasy as they did when he'd been small, especially considering that the reason they were there was that they hadn't been killed like they were supposed to. He half expected a dragon to crawl out of the tunnel entrance and finish them off.

They stood in silence. Harry fiddled with the mokeskin bag that Hermione had put an expandable charm on to fit the sword, and Hermione chewed at her lip in thought, going over whatever plan she had to keep the goblins from getting another dragon. Or at least, Ron assumed that was what she was thinking about. He found himself staring as her eyes scrunched and her forehead furrowed, her head shaking back and forth every so often as she dismissed some thought.

Sooner than Ron would have thought, Bill returned and motioned them inside. They found themselves in the private chambers of Gringotts in a long corridor lined with iron doors. Goblins meandered in and out of rooms, the doors opening only at the bottom, as if it cut in half to be perfectly goblin-sized. They eyed the trio wearily as they passed, some more hostile than others. While Bill walked through without an issue, none of the goblins moved out of the way for Harry, Ron, and Hermione. The three of them dodged out of the goblins' way, and when Ron accidentally bumped into one of them, the goblin glared and bared its teeth.

Bill took them into a nearby door, thank Merlin, and they entered a small cramped office. It took Ron a moment to notice the familiar faces in the photographs hang up on the wall and realized they were in Bill's office. Ron had at least expected to be in some sort of meeting space. "Is this where we're talking to the goblins?"

"Goblin," Bill corrected as he sat on the corner of his desk. "It'll only be Ragnok today. The rest of the goblins are more than happy to hold this grudge for the next hundred years, and Ragnok was the only volunteer."

"No pressure then," Harry muttered, sitting heavily in the armchair in the corner.

The lower half of the door swung open, and a disgruntled goblin shuffled in. "Your lot has really done it this time," he grumbled in place of a greeting. He walked right passed Bill and hopped into his desk chair.

"If not for _my _lot, most notably the three here, we'd all be in much worse circumstances."

"As you've said." The goblin, who Ron could only assume was Ragnok, tapped his claws against the desk. "So tell me, what do you have to offer?"

Ron, Harry, and Hermione exchanged a look, but Harry recovered from Ragnok's abruptness first. "We've got the Sword of Gryffindor," he said bluntly.

Ragnok's tapping paused, his right ear twitching in interest. "Not that I can see."

Annoyance flashed across Harry's face, but he held his tongue. In response, he opened the moleskin bag and drew out the large sword, the ruby handle glinting in the dim light. Ragnok's eyes widened ever so slightly. With only a grunt as an excuse, Ragnok hopped off the chair and exited the room. Harry sighed. "I've messed it up, haven't I?"

"Not at all. I was hoping he'd do that." Bill grinned over at the sword while Harry stared at him unassuredly. "You've impressed him enough to warrant bringing in the head goblin. He's the one with the authority to make a decision about reopening the bank."

Harry nodded but continued twisting the sword around his hands until the door opened again. Ragnok hurried in ahead of an ancient-looking goblin who limped in on a cane. His skin was so wrinkled, Ron wasn't exactly sure which fold hid his eyes. Instead of heading towards the chair, the head goblin walked right to Harry and took the sword. Harry watched the goblin examine the sword with suspicion, his hand hovering and ready to grab it back at any moment.

After a few moments, the head goblin nodded his head and returned the sword to Harry. "It has been many generations since this sword was taken from goblin hands. Why return it now?"

Harry sat up straighter in his chair. "I made a promise to Griphook that if he helped us, he could have the sword."

"Help you break into a high-security vault, steal another magical artefact, and escape on the back of our dragon."

"Just the first two actually," Harry said, though the sentiment didn't seem to impress the head goblin. Actually, though Ron hadn't thought it possible, the wrinkles at the side of the goblin's mouth deepened. "But without him, Voldemort would still be alive. His memory should be honoured."

"Thieves are not to be honoured," the head goblin grumbled.

"Then take the sword as a sign of goodwill," Bill said, stepping closer and intervening for the first time. "A gift and a promise that there won't be any more break-in attempts from us."

"I was never worried about you, Mr Weasley."

Harry glared at the goblin, his patience waning. "It's not from Bill; it's from us."

"From all of us," Hermione corrected. "Harry, Ron, and myself. We're sorry for the damage we caused to the building and for breaking goblins' trust in wizards and witches. We promise we only did what we had to for the good of the entire magical community, and we worked alone. None of the people outside had anything to do with it. There's no reason that Gringotts bank should not be reopened for them."

All of them tensed as they waited for the head goblin's reaction to Hermione's impassioned speech. The goblin's beady eyes moved from Hermione to Harry to Ron with the same discerning look he'd used on the sword. Ron stood up straight, hoping to look as trustworthy as possible.

"The damages to our vault system will be expensive to repair…" His eyes glinted as his gaze returned to Harry.

"I can pay for the damages," Harry said. "Do we have a deal? We give you the sword, and you reopen the bank, alright?"

"Hmmm," the goblin hummed, lifting one of his hands away from the sword. Ron's stomach dropped, thinking he was about to hand the sword back to Harry, but then the head goblin held out his gnarled hand. "Deal."

Harry shook his hand curtly, though his furrowed eyebrows finally relaxed. The knot in Ron's stomach also untangled, and he even managed to return the head goblin's nod as he passed him. "Ragnok," he said over his shoulder when he reached the door, "I trust you will see to discussing the process of vault bands with our new friends. And don't forget about the dragon."

The door slammed shut behind the head goblin before any of them could protest.

"Vault bands?" Ron asked Bill at the same time Hermione turned on Ragnok with a fire in her eyes and asked, "What about the dragon?"

"Let's not all lose our heads at once," Bill said, though the smidgeon of relief that had been on his face earlier was long gone. "There is a rule that anyone who attempts to steal from a vault will no longer be allowed to have one, but Ragnok, these three single-handedly saved the Wizarding World from complete destruction. We can't band them from owning a vault."

"Do you know why Gringotts is one of the most secure buildings in all the world?" Ragnok asked. "It's because we don't make exceptions."

"That's not fair," Ron said. "We've just given you the bloody Sword of Gryffindor! That more than makes up for us breaking in."

Ragnok shrugged. "Doesn't change the fact that you did break-in."

"Surely you can pull some strings," Bill said. "Or at least discuss this with the head."

"You've already convinced him to reopen the bank," Ragnok said. "Take the win, Bill. He's not exactly a giving soul."

"Where the hell are we supposed to keep our money, then?" Ron asked, his mind already spinning. In a few days, he'd be starting his Auror training, a real job with a real salary. He couldn't just keep all those coins in his pocket. "And what about the gold that's in Harry's vault right now? And the currency exchange? You can't ban Hermione from exchanging her Muggle money here."

"We'll sort all that out," Bill said. He seemed to have given up on fighting the bans now and shifted into 'cleaning up the pieces' mode. "I'll take care of any money exchanges for Hermione, and the contents of Harry's vault will be returned to him today, yes?"

Ragnok nodded, though he added, "Minus the cost of the repairs he promised to pay for."

Harry stood from his chair, his shoulders rigid and hands in fists. "Should I be expecting nothing then?"

"Only if the funds in your vault are not enough to cover the damage," Ragnok said in a bored, business-like tone. "We already have a general estimate we will start with. The rest is yours."

A cold sweat broke out over Ron's skin. Maybe not keeping their money at Gringott's wasn't such a horrible thing after all. Harry didn't even have control over his own family's fortune, not to mention that the entire wizarding world was on the verge of ruin because the bank wouldn't open its doors. The goblins could have one pissy day and completely destroy wizardkind.

Bill put a hand on Harry's shoulder and steered him back from Ragnok. "I'll make sure you get your gold," he said quietly before approaching the goblin. "Now about this dragon."

"Yes, acquiring a new one will not be easy–"

"You can't have another dragon!" Hermione burst out, having held it in for the past few minutes. Ron was surprised she'd been able to last that long. "The conditions that creature was kept in were completely inhumane, not to mention that keeping a dragon in Britain is illegal unless–"

"Actually," Bill said loudly, cutting Hermione off, "I have a solution that will avoid needing to discuss the legalities of dragons."

"Bill, the dragon is non-negotiable–"

"Hear me out." Bill hurried to his desk before either Ragnok or Hermione could argue again. He pulled a leatherbound notebook from the top drawer and flipped over to a page that he showed to Ragnok. "I've been breaking curses for years, and with the ancient ruins I've learned along with goblin magic and artistry, creating this will take no time at all."

Ragnok pursed his lips as he took in whatever it was Bill had drawn up. "And how is this better than a dragon?"

"No training, no feeding, and no old age. None of the annoyances of a living creature."

"Huh," Ragnok said, beginning to look a bit impressed. Ron's curiosity urged his feet forward, and he craned his neck to try to get a peek at Bill's journal. Ragnok's eyes darted up to him with a steely glare. "And who has seen these designs?"

"My eyes only," Bill said, shooting Ron a warning look.

Before Ron could even take the hint and settle back against the wall, Ragnok snapped the notebook shut and tucked it under his arm. "Very well," he said, eyes shifting around the room as if he expected one of them to make a grab for the book. "I'll sort out the Potter vault, and you can be on your way."

"I'll assist," Bill said, following Ragnok closely out the door. "This shouldn't take more than a few minutes. Stay here," he instructed, leaving Ron, Harry, and Hermione in a state of bewilderment.

Harry sank back into the armchair with a heavy sigh. "Better enjoy our last minutes here. Doesn't look like we'll be back."

"At least we rode out on a dragon," Ron said, hopping up on top of Bill's desk. He drummed his fingers along the edge, trying to fend off his worrying thoughts. It wasn't like he had any money to put in a vault at the moment and, after treating Harry's fortune like a hostage, he didn't even know if he trusted the goblins to keep anything safe anymore. Still, what else was he supposed to do? Every wizard and witch he knew used Gringotts. It's not like he could keep his sickles and knuts in a muggle bank.

Hermione chewed on her lip with a solemn look on her face. Ron bumped her leg with his foot and said, "Thought you would be happy at least. Seems like Bill took care of the dragon problem."

"Yes…" she said, and Ron waited for her to say more and explain why she didn't seem satisfied. Instead, all three of them remained quiet and in their own thoughts as they waited for Bill to come back.

Left inside his mind, Ron quickly surmised Hermione's disappointed. She probably had an entire impassioned speech planned, one that would convince any goblin they didn't need a dragon in their vaults, and Bill had unknowingly took that opportunity away from her. He knew that feeling well. Maybe he'd ask her about it later once they were home again. He'd ask now, but honestly, even seeing her biting at her bottom lip was sending him flashbacks of their snog at Hogwarts the previous day. If she started going on about her brilliant plan, he'd have to kiss her. And having this desk he could so easily lift her up on was much too tempting.

Ron jumped down from his perch and paced the length of the office. Merlin, even having Harry in the room did nothing to quell his thoughts. There really was something wrong with him. Was this what being in love was like all the time?

Now that thought did the trick. He stopped in his tracks in a cold sweat, moving again only to sit in Bill's desk chair before he fainted it. That word–the big one that started with 'l'–had popped into his mind so easily but then wedged itself in there seemingly permanently. Ron hadn't had the time to overthink their relationship much in the last two week and, shit, it had only been two weeks. It was too soon, right? It had to be. After being friends for seven years, he knew he loved her, but did he _love _her? Did she love him? Really, that was the more important question.

"Ron?" Hermione had turned her head towards him and was giving him a concerned look. "Are you alright?"

Yeah, alright, he couldn't deny that she at least cared about him. He could take that for now. "Yeah… just don't like this waiting and doing nothing. Makes me anxious."

"Glad I'm not the only one," Harry said, standing from his chair and joining Ron and Hermione at Bill's desk. He stared down at a quill sitting on the edge, contemplating its dark plumage for a moment. "Do you think I'll have any gold left after today?"

"Bill will take care of it," Ron said, relieved to be focusing on something else. "And even if they take it all, we'll be making more than a fair wage as Aurors soon enough."

Hermione's eyes flashed daggers at him for only a second before she turned her gaze down with a huff. Her reaction, though it shouldn't have surprised him, startled him. He'd been expecting some sort of words of reassurance from her, but it seemed that she was still resentful of their joining the Aurors. He wasn't sure if things would blow over after their meeting on Friday, or if it would only fan the flames more.

Luckily, they didn't have to sit in that tension for more than a few minutes before Bill returned, alone this time. "I did what I could," he said, passing along a small satchel that wouldn't have been able to fit even an eighth of the gold Ron knew to have been in Harry's vault. There was always the possibility of an expanding charm, but no one asked. Instead, they made their way out of the bank as quick as they could. They went back the way they came, leaving Bill behind to deal with the crowd about to pour into the soon-to-be unlocked doors.

"Should we head over Wheezes then?" Ron said as they stepped back into the late morning light. Even in the shade, it felt blinding after being down in the tunnels again.

"Actually," Hermione said, "I was thinking of going to Ollivander's while we're here."

"Yeah, of course." Ron couldn't believe he'd made it all the way to Diagon Alley with her and forgotten to pester her about getting a new wand. He had not been quite as adamant since giving her Wormtail's old wand, but he knew she felt about as comfortable using it as he did. "Everyone'll be so distracted by Gringotts reopening, we might go completely unnoticed."

Hermione nodded. "We still shouldn't stay too long. Reporters could turn up at any moment."

"I'll go find Ginny and see you at the joke shop," Harry said, already taking a few steps backwards towards Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. "We can leave from there."

"Are you sure you should be going alone?" The fear shrilled Hermione's voice, but Ron was inclined to agree with her.

"I'll be fine. I've got this." Harry opened up his mokeskin pouch and pulled out his Invisibility Cloak. Well, not just his; it was _the _Invisibility Cloak. Ron doubted he'd be able to ever look at it the same way again.

Before either he or Hermione could find an objection, Harry said, "I'll see you over there," and swung the cloak around himself. Instantly, there was nothing in front of them except for the worn cobble road.

Ron and Hermione stood watching the spot where Harry had disappeared for a few moments before Hermione said, "We can't even watch to make sure he gets there alright."

"Probably what he wanted, the prat." Ron shook his head, trying to dispel all the negative thoughts floating into his mind. Harry would be fine. He could walk a block down the street on his own without getting himself killed. Not that Ron trusted Harry to keep himself alive anymore. But they were in Diagon Alley. If the Death Eaters were lying low, they wouldn't be in such a populated place. Unless… no, no, he had to stop thinking about the worst-case scenario.

He turned toward Hermione, noticed the concerned knot between her eyebrows, and took her hand. The wrinkles on her brow smoothed as she looked up at him. That's the kind of moment he should be focused on. "To Ollivander's then?"

They stuck to the back street as they walked to the southern half of Diagon Alley, hearing the commotion from the main street as news of Gringotts spread. The bustling about tapered out as they walked, the whole place feeling deserted by the time they ventured onto the main road to reach the wand shop.

As Ron reached out a hand to open the door, Hermione tugged back on his arm to stop him. "Do you…" she started, then cringed before trying again. "Do you mind if I go in alone?"

"Why?" Shit, he shouldn't have asked. He didn't want to hear it. He didn't want to hear her say she'd rather be alone than with him or didn't trust him or needed space. Nothing like that. For fuck's sake, he'd just realized he loved her.

"It's nothing to do with you," she said, quick and blunt. "I… I don't think I can explain it properly. But that last time I was here choosing a wand, my parents were with me."

Before she could try to explain herself more, Ron cut her off. "Right, yeah, that's fine."

She smiled at him and kissed his cheek before disappearing into the shop. He stood off to the side in front of the single window, keeping his eyes on the empty road. Honestly, he wished there was something there that could distract him from his anxious thoughts.

Despite saying it was fine, Ron wasn't sure if it was. He hadn't wanted to argue with her about her parents, but he didn't understand her reasoning at all. Her parents weren't dead. She'd get to make more memories with them. Hell, she could bring them to Diagon Alley any time she wanted. Well, as soon as she fetched them from Australia and restored their memories.

He sighed, leaning his head back against the window. Her parents were just another thing they didn't really talk about. It made sense that she wanted to wait, but if he didn't know any better, he'd say she was putting it off, which made absolutely no sense. But that wasn't his burden to worry about. He definitely _wasn't_ anxious about whether or not Hermione wanted him to go with her to Australia or how the travels would affect his Auror training. And he _definitely_ wasn't still sore about Hermione deciding not to take the Auror training too. Being apart so much was _not_ going to completely ruin their relationship.

Things weren't that bad between them, right? Their snog yesterday certainly didn't feel like they were ending things any time soon. And she'd already said she wanted Ron to come with her when she went to Australia. Auror training wasn't going to change that… right?

Merlin, he was going absolutely mad. He'd thought it had been bad at sixteen, trying to decipher whether she even fancied him. Back then, he never would have guessed how much more stressful it would be trying to decipher her feelings while dating her. Maybe he just sucked at relationships. It's not like he had any idea what he'd been doing during his fling with Lavender or even that one awkward date he'd had with Padma at the Yule Ball. Maybe he was problem. Maybe Hermione would be better off with someone else.

Ron slumped against the window, lazily gazing out on the empty road. What he wouldn't give for a Death Eater to show up right now. A good life-or-death duel would really clear his head. Then Hermione would come out right as he stunned the Death Eater, at the most impressive moment. And she'd hug him and ask if he was alright and maybe heal him since, Ron had to be honest, he'd never get out completely unscathed. But she'd still be proud of him. And she'd see that he could be a good Auror, that he wouldn't get himself killed. She wouldn't be worried or scared or anything like that anymore. Just proud.

The wand shop door swung open, snapping Ron out of his fantasy. Hermione held a simple black wand box, smiling each time her eyes drifted down to it.

"Ready, then?" he asked as he straightened up.

They made their way down the back roads again, not saying much. He wanted to ask about what kind of wand she picked out, but he didn't want to tread on any nerves. The uneasiness he felt disappeared as soon as Hermione took his hand, though. For all the times he feared her slipping away, there were these moments that felt so easy and natural too. Her fingers fit perfectly in between his, and their footsteps fell into the same rhythm. Why couldn't it always be like that?

"I'm sorry I made you wait outside," Hermione said, "but thank you for not questioning it."

"Oh, yeah… uh, you're welcome." Ron wasn't sure how to respond. She was giving him a smile of appreciation, and it almost felt like he'd done something right. Had Ron Weasley actually done something right?

"It's an acacia," Hermione explained, nodding towards the wand box.

"Those are rare, aren't they?"

"They aren't the most common." The tiniest hint of smugness coated her words. "Ollivander said they're very loyal and gentle wands."

"Sounds like exactly what you could use right now," Ron said

"Yes." Hermione glanced at him with a warm, content look then leaned her head against his arm. Thank Merlin he'd managed to say the right thing again, even if he wasn't sure why his comment had made her so happy with him. He hadn't even been thinking about his words until they were out. Maybe he wasn't such a shit boyfriend after all.

As they got closer to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, a cacophony of voices floated towards them over the shops from the main street. The noise grew louder with their steps, which slowed down in caution the closer they got. There weren't any alleys between the shops here, the closet one several shops behind them, so they couldn't have a peek around to find out what the commotion was about.

Ron and Hermione exchanged a look of panic, both of their minds going to the same worst-case scenario. At the same time, they took off running. Hermione flung open her wand box, dropping it on the ground as she grabbed her new wand. Ron's long legs pulled him in front, and he spotted a pair of people jogging towards them first. He skidded to a stop, putting out his arm to stop Hermione.

"Who is it?" she asked in a breathy voice.

"I think…." Ron said, squinting at the figures to make them come clear. "I think it's Harry and Ginny."

Both of them immediately lowered their wands but hurried forward to meet their friends. "What's going on?" Ron asked as soon as they stopped in front of each other.

"Bloody reporters, that's what," Ginny said, her eyes blazing. "They appeared out of nowhere and swarmed the shop! Bunch of leeches and vultures, the lot of them."

Ron sighed in relief as he pocketed his wand. "We can't take you anywhere, can we?" he teased, slapping Harry's arm.

Harry didn't seem in the mood for a joke, though. His face darkened with guilt as he shrugged and said half-heartedly, "Better than Death Eaters, I guess."

"It's still completely ridiculous," Ginny interrupted. "We can't even visit our own brother's shop without someone tipping them off. If Harry wanted to talk to them, he'd have done it already. The lack of respect, and for the Boy Who Lived, no less! I have some choice words for them if they're desperate enough for a comment."

Ginny's anger still blazed strong as they returned to the Burrow, and she declared a need to blow off some steam with a game of Quidditch. Despite Hermione's protests, Ginny dragged her into a team against the boys and set off for the orchard clearing. It was a perfect day for flying, warm but not too hot or sunny. When Ron lifted into the air, he felt as if he were leaving all his problems on the ground. His mind couldn't focus on much else but defending their makeshift hoop from Ginny's vengeful throws. His first catch nearly knocked him from his broom, but damn it felt good. It felt… normal.

The game disintegrated into brother versus sister as Harry didn't have the heart to continue scoring against Hermione's feeble Keeping attempts. Ron would throw him the Quaffle, and he'd play keep away from Ginny as long as he could. Despite his talents as a Seeker, Ginny made him look like an amateur as a Chaser. With her frustrations of the day fueling her, Ron doubted Gwenog Jones could match her.

With the late afternoon sun blazing over the trees and the girls' score doubling the boys', they decided to call the game. Ginny's anger had morphed into ecstatics, and she practically skipped all the way back home. She volunteered herself and Harry to return the brooms to the shed, and Ron severely wished he hadn't noticed the cheeky wink she'd given Harry.

Damp with sweat, Ron immediately headed for a shower, the warm water warding off the shadows trying to creep back into his brain. It had been a good day. They'd gotten Gringotts reopened, Hermione bought a new wand, and he'd enjoyed a healthy game of Quidditch. He even found his dad preparing an early dinner when he returned downstairs. A month ago, Ron never would have even hoped for a day as good as this.

Bill and Fleur joined them for dinner, their company drawing Ron's mom out of her room. Though quiet, she wasn't crying this time, which seemed like a win. Bill thanked Harry again for giving up the Sword of Gryffindor and offered to help him clear out Grimmauld Place of any curses as repayment. They made plans to go that Thursday. Despite all of the Weasleys' reassurances, Harry was anxious to have a place of his own. Ron understood, though. A part of him wanted to leave the Burrow behind as quickly as possible too. After all they'd been through, returning to his bright orange bedroom in the attic felt like trying to go back in time. It had been nice at first, but it no longer felt like him. He was ready to move on.

His mom turned in early, but the rest of them sat around for hours chatting. Dad filled them in on everything happening in the Ministry, and Bill talked more about Diagon Alley and how the surprise grand reopening of Gringotts had gone. Fleur, who had just come back from visiting her family in France, gave them the international news. Travel bans were lifted, and the rest of Europe seemed to be simply relieved that Britain had sorted itself out.

By ten o'clock, yawns interrupted their conversation until Dad announced they should all head to bed. No one protested as they said farewell to Bill and Fleur and headed upstairs to their prospective rooms. Ron was already starting to feel sore from the Quidditch game, and he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep as soon as he climbed into bed.

It felt like he'd only been asleep five minutes when panic gripped his chest and he sat up with a gasp. A cold sweat broke out over his skin, and his heartbeat pounded in his ears. He grabbed his wand and cast Lumos, looking around the room for whatever had woken him up. It had to have been something. He leaned out his arm, dispersing the shadows from every corner, but there was nothing there. His room was empty.

He fell against his headboard, his hands still shaking as he rested them against his knees. The panic ebbed away into swirling anxiety, and the reasonable side of his mind fought against it. This wasn't the first time he'd been woken up in the middle of the night by nothing. The last two times, he'd gotten out of bed to check on everyone, and they'd all been sound asleep. All the hands on the Weasley clock had pointed home. They would be again. He didn't need to go check. He should just go back to sleep, and he'd see them in the morning.

Damnit. All the self-convincing in the world couldn't have eased the fear. Ron flung off his blankets, angry at himself for giving in. But what if something had happened? What if this was the one time where his sleeping ears had heard a sound outside, and he'd forever regret ignoring it? He had to check; he just had to.

Not even bothering to grab his dressing robe, Ron cast away the light of his wand and snuck down the stairs in complete darkness. He knew every creaky stair and loose floorboard and avoided them easily. Harry's room was first, and Ron only had to lean his ear against the door to hear Harry's deep breathing. He'd never slept so soundly in all the years he and Ron had shared a dorm room, but since the end of the battle, Harry slept like the dead. The noisy dead. His heavy breaths were louder than Neville's snoring.

Satisfied, Ron moved on to Hermione. Of course, she was the most difficult. He couldn't hear her through the door or simply check the family clock to make sure she was alright. Instead, he hoped and prayed she was asleep before cracking open the door. Merlin, if she ever caught him sneaking into her bedroom at a quarter past midnight, she'd kill him, or think he was a complete creep, or both.

His eyes had adjusted enough to the darkness to make out the fuzzy shape of her, fast asleep and safe. The heaviness in his heart melted into a sigh of relief. Her head moved from one side to the other against her pillow, and Ron held his breath until she stilled again. As quickly but also quietly as he could, he closed the door again and backed away down the stairs.

When he reached the living room, Ron lit the candles on the mantelpiece and faced the family clock. As he'd expected, every single little golden hand pointed at home. The relief fell heavy on his shoulders, dragging him down to the sofa. He twirled his wand in his fingers as he stared at the clock, waiting for one of the hands to move. It took several minutes of staring down his family before he truly felt that they were all actually safe. Just like last time, and the time before that, everyone was okay.

He should have gone back to bed at this point, but the fear had chased away his drowsiness. What he wouldn't give to have a rematch against Ginny feeling this alert and awake. He'd crush her. He chuckled to himself as he stared up at the clock, losing track of time as he relished in the calm it brought him.

"Ron?"

He jumped up from the sofa at Hermione's voice, turning to see her standing in the doorway of the kitchen. Her dressing robe was tied tight around her, and she clutched a book to her chest. Even in the dim light, her skin looked pale and her stance unsteady. Another nightmare, he assumed.

"Alright?" he asked, not waiting for an answer as he approached, arms reaching out for her. She gave a slow, unconvincing nod but leaned into him, nuzzling her face into his chest. Her arm snaked out from between them to grab the back of his shirt. He squeezed her close and kissed her hair before leaning his cheek on top of her head. "See, you're alright."

Hermione sighed deeply before pulling back. "I couldn't stay in that room any longer. I thought maybe if I sat down here and read for a bit, I'd feel tired again." Her eyes finally lifted up to meet his. "What were you doing down here?"

"Oh," Ron said, forgetting he should have expected that question. "It's… it's kind of strange to explain." She cautiously joined him on the sofa as he took her over to it. "Sometimes, I wake up in the middle of the night with this feeling that something's gone wrong. I'm so worried and… and scared, and I can't get back to sleep until I know that everyone–you and Harry and my family, _everyone_–is safe and… alive." He motioned toward the family clock. "So coming down here helps."

"Hmmm." Hermione hummed her understanding as she stared up at the clock as well. She was quiet in thought for a minute, before saying, "See, that's what I need to find."

"What d'you mean?"

"I mean, when I wake up in the middle of the night, I don't have anything to do or look at to calm that restlessness. The Calming Draught is the only thing that's helped so far, but I have to find something else, something that will be as reassuring as the clock is for you."

"Right," Ron said, trying to find some way to be helpful. "Like what?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out," she snapped, her eyes flashing to his and softening with guilt a second later. She sighed. "But nothing that I've tried works."

"Well… what have you tried?"

Hermione sat up a little straighter, putting on the same voice she did when giving a particularly long and completed answer to a question in class. "I tried reading in bed at first to distract myself, but I found it hard to concentrate and couldn't get through more than a page or two. I've opened the window for white noise but that only made the paranoia worse. I tried keeping the light on, but then I can't get to sleep at all. I put both a cooling and warming charm on my blanket, but the cold made it impossible to fall asleep and the warmth only made the nightmares worse. The Calming Draught is the only thing that's been decently successful."

"But even that wears off after a few hours," Ron said, remembering their nap from a week ago and the panic she had woken up in when the potion had faded.

"Not the last time I took it." Hermione bit her lip, hesitant to go on. Ron perked up and stared at her but bit back his reprimand at the same time. "I mean, of course, it must have worn off, but I managed to stay asleep afterwards. So it's getting better," she added quickly before Ron could add anything else. "If I can just find a way to get to sleep, _real _sleep, not just light, I'll be okay. The nightmares are much less frequent."

"But you had one tonight."

She sighed, falling back into the sofa cushions. "I didn't say they'd disappeared, just that they're better."

"And you had one last night too." Ron watched as she stiffened before glancing over at him. "Harry told me this morning."

Hermione huffed. "I know it doesn't seem like it, but believe me, they're getting better."

"Are they? Or are you just getting used to them?"

Hermione clutched her book to her stomach as she looked away from him. Her lip trembled as she said, "I don't know what else you want me to do."

Ron sighed, frustrated with himself for snapping at her. He reached out a hand to brush her shoulder. "I don't want you to do anything except get better."

"And I'm trying." She brushed off his hand and slammed the book into her lap. "Whether you believe me or not, it is getting better, and I'm sorry that I can't just snap my fingers and make everything okay again. It's not like going back to Gringotts helped anything, either. The last time I was in that place, I was pretending to be _her_." Her voice caught in her throat, and she paused to swallow back the tears that had sprung into her eyes. "Every time I think things are starting to go back to normal, something else comes up and sends me right back to that state I was in at Shell Cottage. So maybe getting used to it is the only thing I can do."

Nothing could have made Ron feel more stupid or helpless in that moment. "Don't say that," he said, hoping against everything she didn't truly believe that. Or that it was true.

Hermione glanced at him but didn't say anything more. He needed to do something. Change the subject? No. All he could think about when looking at her was the thoughts that had been circling in his head earlier. Now did not seem the best time to say, "I love you." Pushing that aside, his thoughts underneath weren't much better. His mind drifted to when she had fallen asleep in his arms… and when she'd woken up. If only he could kiss her like that again and make all of the nightmares go away, but things would never be that simple.

"We can stay down here a while," he said, finally settling on something. "You can read for a bit. See if that helps."

"You don't have to stay up with me. One of us should get some sleep tonight."

Ron shrugged. "I'm not really that tired right now. Honest."

She chewed her lip, probably debating on whether or not he was bluffing to keep an eye on her. He had to admit, he was a little. If he went back up to bed now, he'd have no trouble getting to sleep. Well, maybe a small bit of trouble, but not because of fear or nightmares. Being alone with Hermione had reignited his grappling with the idea of love.

Instead of arguing, thankfully, Hermione settled herself on the sofa, turning to rest her back against the armrest and curl her knees up in front of her. This was a familiar sight, and it brought a warmth of nostalgia to Ron's chest. From the Gryffindor common room to the Burrow in its previous state to Grimmauld Place and even to the tent, Ron would never tire of seeing Hermione curled up with a book.

His resistance broke. Without thinking, he swept an arm behind her ankles and pulled her legs across his lap. She smiled at him, settling down deeper and bending her knees just enough to rest her heavy book against them. He'd be lying if he didn't admit how aware he was of her bum pressed against his thigh. Doing his gentlemanly best, he draped the arm closest to her over the back of the sofa and fiddled with the end of her pyjama bottoms with his other hand.

As Hermione turned a page, his fingers drifted. They rubbed against the bare skin above her socks then travelled up. She hummed her appreciation as he lazily massaged her calf. Though not the most exciting body part to have in his hand, there was still something so intimate in the way his fingers rubbed and squeezed her muscle.

Ron's mind relaxed into a blank daze, concentrating only on the way her toes curled and uncurled beneath the thick fabric of her socks. He didn't notice the sound of Hermione's turning pages disappearing until her leg suddenly fell heavy in his hand. He looked over to see her head lolled to the side, eyes closed, and her book slipping out of her hands. Careful not to disturb her, he gently lifted the book away and set it on the coffee table. Hermione shifted in her sleep, stretching out her legs and tucking her arms around her middle.

Well, it seemed like Ron was stuck on the sofa for the night. Trying to get into a somewhat comfortable position, Ron lifted his feet up on the coffee table and leaned his head back into the cushions. His neck would not be thanking him in the morning, but as he glanced down at Hermione, he determined it worth it.

He took the opportunity to stare, taking in every detail about her: the steadiness of her breaths, the curve of her nose, the curl of her eyelashes, the way her hand trembled ever so slightly in her sleep. He took it, smiling as her fingers immediately curled around his.

There was no questioning whether or not he loved her. He did. In so many ways. He loved her as a person and he loved her as a friend and he loved her in this way too. His chest ached with how desperately, hopelessly in love with her he was. Why couldn't that be enough to make the pain of the past disappear forever?

* * *

**Author's Note: **Wow, glad you made it through all that! This was a bit of a monster of a chapter BUT it felt really important that this ending scene be from Ron's POV. I hope you've enjoyed this chapter despite its length! I am hard at work on chapter nine, which may be a similar length to this one and full of more angst and fluff. I'm finally getting to write the scenes that inspired this story, such as the final scene of this chapter and the boggart scene in the last, so I'm extremely excited to share these last few chapters with you. As always, thank you to everyone who has followed, favourited, and reviewed this story so far. You are the Tiger King to my quarantine. :) Hope everyone is staying safe and I'll see you in the next chapter!


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine: To Fear The Unknown**

(Author's Note: I don't normally like putting these at the start of the story, but here is a warning for some vague spoilers for the Harry Potter mobile game, Hogwarts: A Mystery. You don't have to be familiar at all with the game, but I do use some of those characters in this chapter.)

Hermione woke the next morning in a lazy daze, her mind easing its way out of the peaceful darkness of slumber. Her neck ached slightly, and she shifted her shoulders as she blinked her bleary eyes. For once, nothing caused her senses to panic and the world she was waking into didn't feel dangerous. For a moment, she thought she might nestle into the cushions and go back to sleep.

The cushions… the sofa cushions… the sofa downstairs in the living room…

Hermione sat up, glancing around the gently lit living room. Was it morning? How did that happen? Ron snored beside her, his head back against the sofa and mouth agape. Her book sat on the coffee table next to his feet. She barely remembered reading more than a page before she must have fallen asleep. She hadn't meant to.

Trying not to wake Ron, Hermione slowly slid her legs out from underneath his arms. She shivered slightly as she pulled away, the room colder without his warmth. It seemed she would have managed to sneak away until she stood. Almost immediately, Ron startled awake, his head snapping to look at her before he hissed in pain and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Sorry," Hermione said in a whisper, maybe hoping he'd just go back to sleep if she stayed quiet enough.

Ron shrugged but grimaced again. "S'alright," he grumbled before glancing up at her again, a twinge of pink colouring his cheeks. "We must have fallen asleep last night."

"Yes, sorry." She didn't know what else to say.

"Don't be sorry." He gave her a small but cheeky grin. "Did you sleep okay?"

She nodded and bit her lip to keep it from trembling. This moment meant something completely different to him, and it shouldn't have felt like this for her. They'd accidentally woken up on the sofa together. This should have been a time for shyness and slight embarrassment but mostly intimacy and caring and understanding. So why did Hermione feel on the verge of tears?

Before Ron could say anything more, Hermione grabbed her book from the table and made some excuse about needing to get ready for the day. He raised an eyebrow at her, but she didn't wait to be questioned. She paced herself leaving the living room but ran as soon as she hit the stairs. Her chest tightened more and more until she finally reached her room and shut the door.

She threw the book to the ground and covered her mouth with her arm, using the fabric of her dressing robe to muffle her strangled cries. Her legs buckled, and her body slid down to the floor. This ache felt worse than the nightmares. It had been growing inside her for days and hurt in ways she hadn't felt since last winter.

She missed him. Ron was right there, and already she was missing him.

This was why she wanted, no, _needed _to figure this out on her own. She'd become too reliant on him since their stay at Shell Cottage. Yes, she'd needed him then, but things had to change. In a few months, she'd be going to Hogwarts… and he would not. And in those few months, she needed to sort herself out.

Of course it would be easier to have him sleep beside her every night until September, but what then? It wouldn't solve anything. And this needed to be solved before the school year started, sooner if she wanted any time to revise her sixth-year material.

Hermione gasped for air, her breathing shaky but slowly steadying. Whatever progress she'd made might have been undone last night, but she wouldn't give up. She just had to be smarter, more methodical. There were plenty of things she could try, she only had to think of them. There had to be a book out there somewhere that would give her the answer right?

As she wiped her face and dressed for the day, only realizing it was five in the morning after readying herself, Hermione found an old notebook in her bag and began scribbling down more notes than she'd taken since leaving school. She leaned over Percy's old desk, the movements of the quill familiar and comforting as she committed all her mental notes to paper. From the first night in the Burrow to waking this morning, she recounted every night's sleep, the severity of the nightmares, what she'd done that day, and any method she'd tried to get to bed.

It was half-past seven by the time she finished, and the rest of the Burrow started to stir. The wafts of breakfast drifted into the room, and footsteps padded past her door. She stretched out her fingers, noticing the black ink smudged on her fingertips and palm. Maybe washing up was a better idea than trying to decipher meaning out of her notes for now.

Perhaps it was the adequate amount of sleep or the excitement of finally being able to work through her emotions in the most logical way possible, but Hermione felt more energized and in control of herself that she had in months. She ate a decent portion of breakfast with Ginny and her parents before Harry and Ron came downstairs. Mr Weaslet was off to the Ministry while the rest of them travelled to Hogwarts for the day again. Even though they'd only missed a day, so much progress had already been made. With the massive amount of helping hands, Professor McGonagall confided in them she thought they might finish by the end of the week.

Hermione, Ron, Harry, and Ginny went to the Greenhouses with Neville to avoid the crowds, then ate a private lunch with Hagrid, who introduced them to Rolf Scamander, a magizoologist helping Hagrid tackle the Forbidden Forest and the creatures who'd been getting a little too close to the castle for anyone's liking. Though not as straightforward and mindless as putting the castle back together, Hermione found Scamander's charms to deter but not harm the creatures fascinating.

All of this made avoiding being alone with or too close to Ron far too easy. By the time they left in the evening, avoiding supper in the crowded Great Hall for Harry's sake, Hermione had forgotten she'd been trying to distance herself from him. She smiled when he took her hand as they walked up to the Burrow.

To everyone's surprise, Mrs Weasley immediately headed for the kitchen, announcing that they all deserved a good meal, and when Harry remarked that he'd been planning to see Andromeda and Teddy, Mrs Weasley insisted he bring them both back for dinner. Ron and Ginny exchanged a glance of confused relief, but none of them dared voice how strange this change in Mrs Weasley was. Perhaps, Hermione thought, time really did heal all wounds.

Unfortunately, as Harry and Ginny left and Mrs Weasley disappeared into the kitchen, Hermione found herself completely alone with Ron for the first time since waking up that day. Perhaps if she'd realized before they sunk into the sofa with exhausted sighs, she could have found some way to excuse herself, but now she was stuck sitting beside him, the room silent except for the clanging of pots coming from the kitchen. Ron lazily stretched his arm around her shoulders, and she leaned in to rest her head on his shoulder. Just as she thought maybe she had lucked out and they would get through this time without speaking about last night or this morning, the melodies of Celestina Warbeck drifted out from the kitchen. Apparently, that was the cue Ron had been waiting for.

"Hermione... About last night…"

Her shoulders scrunched up to ears, and she glanced up at Ron hesitantly. "Yeah?"

"I'm sorry if… well, if I was supposed to, y'know, wake you up. I… I didn't know…"

"Ron, what are you on about?" Hermione finally asked, putting him out of his misery. "You don't have to apologize for us falling asleep on the sofa together. It's fine."

Ron stiffened, the tips of his ears going red. "Well, you didn't seem fine this morning," he grumbled.

Hermione sighed. Whatever happened to the stereotype that boys didn't want to talk about their feelings? Honestly, she could use a break from it herself, at least until she'd properly sorted through her own emotions herself. How was she supposed to explain to him that he was the one thing that consistently eased her nightmares as well as being the one thing she couldn't rely on? How could she explain that she felt her progress set back by weeks because of him? That if he just agreed to go back to Hogwarts with her, she'd welcome him into her bed every night to finally get some proper rest.

No, that wasn't fair. Besides, together or not, Hermione needed to find some solution on her own. She couldn't rely on Ron forever.

"I was just...," Hermione started, figuring out the lie as she went along, "...just worried that… your parents would find us…"

It was weak at best, but the idea of his mum and dad coming downstairs to find him alone with Hermione seemed to frighten Ron enough to believe her. With a flushed face, he merely nodded in agreement. Then, before Hermione could even think the conversation ended, he asked, "But you did sleep alright, right?"

He'd asked her the same thing that morning. Hermione couldn't remember a time she'd talked so much about her quality for sleep. "Yes, fine."

Ron nodded as if her curt answer had confirmed everything. "You know, if you think it might help, I could sleep on the floor again, like I did at Shell Cottage."

Hermione shook her head before he'd even finished his sentence. "No, you don't have to do that." He opened his mouth to argue, but she continued on before he could interrupt. "I can figure this out. You don't have to worry about it."

"Of course I don't _have _to," he said. "Doesn't mean that I won't."

Hermione pressed her lips together, unable to fend off her annoyance. There was a time any hint of Ron caring about her, even when overprotective and irrational, brought her so much satisfaction, adding evidence to her theory that he fancied her. Now, she wished he cared just a little bit less. She was sick of talking about her sleeping patterns and all the ways she'd failed to get rid of the nightmares. She was tempted to pick a fight with him right then. Maybe if she really peeved him off, she'd get a reprieve from his obsession over her wellbeing.

As he looked down at her, waiting for her reply, another idea formed. She shouldn't. It was terribly manipulative and self-serving. Then again, the longer she stared at his open, honest, expectant face, the more persistent the thought became.

Pushing herself up, Hermione pressed her lips to his, perhaps with a bit more force than she meant. Ron's eyes widened in surprise, his mouth agape as she settled back down. Her cheeks burned and heart sped up, only now thinking maybe that hadn't been the best idea. "Sorry, I…"

But before she could scrounge up the words, Ron grinned and caught her face in his hand. "You don't have to apologize for that. Ever," he added with a chuckle. Then he bent his mouth down to hers, and all the tension left her body. Snogging really was a beautiful distraction. Forget anything she'd thought about before about wishing he cared less about her because kisses wouldn't be like this otherwise. The caresses wouldn't be as gentle or his grip so firm. It was so easy to get lost.

The knob of the front door clicked as it turned, and Hermione and Ron both jumped. Ron's head whipped around to face the door while Hermione pushed herself a good six inches away from him. She wiped her mouth as if that would hide everything.

"Evening, Ron, Hermione," Mr Weasly greeted as he hung up his coat. Hermione couldn't bring herself to even look at him.

"Hi, Dad," Ron said, obviously attempting to be casual but coming in about half an octave too high.

Mr Weasley gave them a curious glance but was quickly distracted by the sounds coming from the kitchen. "Is your mother cooking, Ron?" His attempts at nonchalance failed as miserably as his son's.

Ron sobered up in an instant. "Yeah… she invited Andromeda and Teddy for supper too. Harry and Ginny left to get them."

"Huh. Best see if she needs any help, then." With a curt nod, he headed into the kitchen, his gait a restrained skip.

Ron sighed with relief and sunk into the sofa cushions as soon as his father left. Hermione still hadn't removed her hand from her face. They glanced at each other, then burst out laughing. Being caught snogging felt so juvenile, and that felt great, like going back in time to when their problems had been so minuscule. It was like a glimpse of the seventh year they never had.

As their giggles subsided, Ron said, "I guess I'll go help set the table." His grin was still wide and contagious as he kissed her quickly on the cheek then hopped up from the sofa. She couldn't stop her own smile, even after he'd left the room. For the first time, Hermione felt a shimmer of hope that normal was possible.

Not long after Mr Weasley, Harry and Ginny returned with Andromeda and Teddy. Out of her antique sitting room and black mourning clothes, Andromeda looked much less like her horrible sister. In fact, the way she turned up her nose after Teddy soiled his diaper almost as soon as they'd walked through the door, Hermione saw a flash of Narcissa Malfoy. And when she laughed, it felt as if Tonks had entered the room. Perhaps she wasn't so awful after all.

Then, of course, she had to go and mention Kreacher and how delightfully surprised she was to find the extra hand around the house so helpful. Ron knocked his knee into Hermione's hard underneath the table before she could make any comments, and Harry changed the subject swiftly.

Dinner lasted for several content hours. None of them could get enough of Mrs Weasley's masterful roast. It put all of their feeble attempts at cooking to shame. And it seemed Mrs Weasley had missed being in the kitchen. More puddings appeared every time anyone set down their fork, and each time Hermione felt she couldn't possibly eat another bite, the conversation would keep her glued to her seat until the delicious scents convinced her to take just one more bite.

As the sun set and everyone around the table finally stopped picking at their food, Teddy started to stir and fuss in Harry's arms. Panic paled his features, but Andromeda swooped in quickly to help settle the baby. "I'll take that to mean it's time to head home," she said, thanking Mrs Weasley again for the invitation as Harry said his goodbyes to Teddy. Ron stood from his chair to do the same, holding the baby's two tiny hands between his large one.

Ginny glanced between the two boys doting over Teddy and muttered to Hermione, "Aren't we supposed to be the ones fawning over a baby?"

"Hard to do when those two refuse to share." Hermione found it amusing that, while they ate, Teddy had been passed around in his bundle of blankets like a prized trophy they all wanted to touch. It was no surprise Mrs Weasley and Harry volunteered to take him next at every turn, but Ron's eagerness had caught her off guard. She'd noticed he'd developed a soft spot for the blue-haired baby the moment they'd met him, but watching him hold and rock Teddy put him in a completely new light for Hermione. How was it he was such a natural while Teddy fussed the entire time Hermione held him? She'd never done much reading on caring for a baby. Maybe it was time she did.

"You will have to come by for tea sometime, Molly," Andromeda said as she gathered her bag. "The company of someone other than a baby or a house-elf would very much be appreciated. Now, Harry, I do require my grandson before leaving."

With a reluctant chuckle, Harry handed over Teddy and hugged Andromeda farewell. Ginny followed suit. Hermione wasn't sure when they'd all become so close. Maybe it was all those visits she refused to partake in. Even though Ron had missed them as well, she still patted his shoulder while only giving Hermione a quick wave. She crossed her arms after returning it, feeling very much left out.

Once Andromeda and Teddy left, Ron and Ginny insisted on cleaning up to let their parents go to bed. Of course, Hermione and Harry stayed to help too, finishing the dishes in a heartbeat before they called it a night as well. They'd be meeting Bill at Grimmauld Place tomorrow morning, after all.

At her door, after leaving Ginny at her room and lagging behind Harry as he retreated to his, Ron paused and waited for Harry's footsteps to disappear before saying, "I can sneak back down if you want. I can change and grab a blanket and be back down in ten minutes–"

"Ron," Hermione hissed, putting a hand to his chest to interrupt him and looking back up the stairs. She dearly hoped Harry was out of earshot. "I told you, you don't have to–"

"I know but…" He took her by the waist and sighed heavily. "It's the only thing I _can _do."

He really knew how to break her heart. It was almost enough to make her give in and tell him he could sleep on her floor every night. Almost. "You can kiss me goodnight," she suggested, sliding her hand up to the back of his neck. "That might help."

A second passed in which Hermione thought he might refuse, and her stomach dropped all the way down to the kitchen. Then the corner of his mouth twitched up into a half-smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. He leaned in for a gentle, quick kiss but pulled away before Hermione could even think about making it more. He stared down at her with pleading eyes. If snogging wasn't even going to distract him anymore, how was Hermione supposed to face that look?

"Well, goodnight then," she finally said, taking a step out of his arms.

Ron's shoulders slumped in defeat. "Yeah… night." He trudged up the stairs, his stooped shadow disappearing slowly.

Before the regret set in, Hermione hurried into her room, pacing as she dressed for bed. She had never been faced with such an infuriating problem before. The solution stood right in front of her–now sulking in the attic–but she couldn't use it. She had to keep the longterm in mind, so there had to be another answer. She just had to find it. No matter how much she wanted to just give into the easy solution.

Despite reassuring Ron she would be fine on her own, Hermione knew her plan wouldn't create fast results. She made a quick note on her journal, citing the heavy meal and the material of her pyjamas and even the quick kiss with Ron. She had no idea what might be important later.

The light flickered out as she crawled into bed, the scolding tendrils of paranoia wrapping around her as soon as she settled her head on her pillow. As her eyes adjusted to the dark, shadows danced around the ceiling and out of the corners of her eyes. She followed them, searching for a solid shape for a while before she shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut. There was nothing there that her mind wasn't making up. She needed to stop looking for danger or she'd never get to sleep.

She jumped as the wind shuddered the glass in the bedroom window, sitting up straight and staring at the wispy curtains. They fluttered ever so slightly, like they were trying not to move. Like something trying to sneak up on her.

No, that was stupid. What was she thinking? The curtains looked the same as they did all the other times she'd thought they were hiding something, or someone. Nothing had happened to her yet.

Hermione forced her body to turn and settle back down. Her breaths hitched as she clutched the blanket around herself, willing sleep to come. If she laid there with her eyes closed long enough, it would, like it did every night. But it never came over her as deeply as she needed. Only minutes after falling into a restless sleep, the nightmare started as they always did.

She was in the dark, again, and alone, again. Nothing had time to happen. Just knowing what was coming sent a jolt of fear so strong that Hermione woke, choking for air in a cold sweat. She hugged her knees to her chest as she tried to catch her breath and slow her racing heart. After a few minutes, her grip around her legs relaxed.

Alright, time to try out something new. On shaky legs, Hermione stepped out of bed and felt her way to the small wardrobe beside the door. She used the wall for guidance as she stooped down and reached for the cat basket tucked next to the wardrobe. Crookshanks gave a soft mew as Hermione picked him up and brought her to her bed.

She'd never let Crookshanks sleep in bed with her, partially because he seemed to prefer his basket when not creeping about and also because she hated the idea of waking up with cat hair in her blankets. But she would have to get over that.

Her theory was pretty basic. Having Ron in the room made her feel safe and less alone, so maybe having Crookshanks beside her would bring her the same sort of security. The big orange cat always felt a bit like a protector anyways. Maybe he could chase down her nightmares like he'd once chased after Scabbers.

It took several minutes for them to sort themselves out. Crookshanks first settled on her pillow beside her head, but Hermione couldn't stand it. That was just asking for fur in her mouth. She moved Crookshanks to her side, cradling him in the crook of her arm. They both hated that, though. He retreated across her belly to curl against her other side's hip. That seemed alright for a bit, but Hermione must have shifted once too many times for Crookshanks' liking. He stretched and grumbled, moving down to her knee and resting close enough for her to feel him there without actually touching.

Hermione found it still took her a better part of an hour to fall asleep, but as with her new usual, as soon as she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep, she stayed there till morning. As she woke to a bright morning sun, Hermione wasted no time grabbing her journal to write down her notes before dressing for the day. She still felt slightly drowsy as she headed downstairs.

Mrs Weasley was in the kitchen again, Ron and Harry hanging around uselessly. They'd been doing a majority of the cooking lately and seemed to still be getting used to Mrs Weasley returning to her old, motherly self. "Good morning, dear," she said as she summoned a heap of bacon from a sizzling pan to a plate in the centre of the table.

"Good morning," Hermione said, catching Ron's eye and putting on a bright smile.

"Sleep well?" Ron asked, not breaking eye contact.

"Very well." She refused to look away first, daring him to challenge her.

Harry didn't seem to notice their silent stand-off. He held up a steaming kettle and asked, "Tea, Hermione?" before pouring her a mug.

"Thanks," she said, only breaking her and Ron's stare to take the cup.

Mrs Weasley set down a large plate of fried eggs and glanced at her watch. "Ron, go and fetch your sister. Bill will be here soon."

"Yeah, alright," Ron grumbled, passing Hermione as he walked up the stairs. She would have shivered if not for the hot mug in her hands. The last few days, since their first trip to Hogwarts and their post-boggart snog, she had felt the heat of Ron's gaze everywhere she went. Now, she just felt cold.

"No need to be polite and wait," Mrs Weasley said as she charmed a knife to butter the heap of toast. "Grab a plate."

Hermione and Harry took their seats, Hermione not paying much attention as she slid an egg onto her plate. "These are delicious, Mrs Weasley," Harry said after taking one bite. Hermione hummed her agreement. Everyone had overly complimented dinner last night, but after having to fend for themselves, they all appreciated Mrs Weasley's expert cooking much more.

"You flatter me," Mrs Weasley said as she waved her hand to dismiss the compliment. "All of you have kept food on the table for weeks."

"Not as good as this," Harry said. "Besides, a few weeks was nothing. You've kept me well-fed for years."

"Oh, Harry." Mrs Weasley brought her hands to her mouth, her eyes filling with tears. Panic whitened Harry's face, obviously thinking he'd said something wrong, but Mrs Weasley pulled him into a tight hug. Hermione gave him a reassuring smile. Good tears or bad, Mrs Weasley cried at the drop of a needle. Harry didn't need to feel guilty.

Not to leave anyone out, Mrs Weasley bustled over to Hermione to hug her as well. As Ron jogged down the stairs, Mrs Weasley turned to sweep him into a giant embrace as well. He glanced at Hermione and Harry over her shoulder. "Everything alright, Mum?"

"Everything is wonderful," she said with a happy sigh, squeezing his arms as she stepped back.

"Okay…" Ron said, still not looking convinced. "Uh, Ginny said she'd be down in a minute."

"Perfect, perfect." She floated back over to the table with a smile on her face. She made a small plate as she said, "I'll take a plate up to your father. He's running very late this morning." She disappeared up the stairs, Ron staring after her.

"Did I miss something?" he asked as he settled into a seat beside Harry.

"All I said was that breakfast tasted good," Harry said with his hands up.

"She's just a bit emotional," Hermione said from Harry's other side. "She's only just started getting back into her normal routine. She's adjusting."

"Right," Ron said, as if he hadn't been the one to ask the question. "At least she's not crying all the time anymore. Not that I minded the crying," he added.

"Who's crying?" Ginny skipped down the last step, stopping in the doorway to glance between the three of them. She quirked an eyebrow as she looked between Hermione and Ron.

"Just Mum, again," Ron said, absentmindedly stuffing an entire egg into his mouth.

"Oh." Ginny shrugged, making herself a plate and sitting next to Hermione. She continued to eye Hermione between forkfuls, which Hermione pretended not to notice.

From outside, they heard the crunch of gravel and the distinctive sound of a car door slamming. Harry's head popped up from his plate. "Are we driving to Grimmauld Place?"

"I didn't know Bill could drive," Ron said, both of them exchanging a look before hopping out of their seats and hurrying to the living room.

"Well, we can't very well Apparate there in broad daylight," Hermione started to say, but the boys were already out of earshot. She rolled her eyes and continued picking at her food.

Ginny scooted her chair closer, bumping their knees, and whispered, "Is everything okay between you and Ron?"

Hermione nearly choked on her bite of bacon. "What?" she gasped. "Why would you ask that?"

"Come on," Ginny said. "You put Harry between the two of you. That's the farthest you've been from each other since we've gotten home."

"We're fine," Hermione huffed. "You don't have to read into everything." She pushed herself away from the table and marched out of the kitchen.

"Sorry for caring, then," she heard Ginny mutter after her, but she ignored it. Things between her and Ron _were _fine. They weren't exactly seeing eye-to-eye at the moment, that didn't mean something was wrong.

Ron and Harry were ushering Bill inside, asking about the car parked out front. Just as Hermione had thought, and Bill was now explaining, driving made the most sense since the Burrow had disconnected with the Floo Network and they shouldn't risk Apparating directly inside the possibly booby-trapped house.

"If everyone's ready, we should leave soon," Bill said, not bothering to take off his leather jacket.

"You should at least make yourself a plate first," Ron said. "Mum's cooked enough to feed an army of giants."

"Mum cooked?" Bill asked with a mix of surprise and intrigue. "Well, alright." He shrugged off his jacket and moved quickly into the kitchen. "But just a small one. We've got another stop before Grimmauld Place."

"Are we picking something up to help us check for curses?" Harry asked, standing behind Ginny's chair as Bill took his old seat.

"Some_one_," Bill corrected, shovelling down food at a pace that would match Ron's.

Hermione, Harry, and Ron exchanged apprehensive looks. "Don't worry," Bill said, noticing their hesitation. "We can trust her. She's one of the best curse-breakers I know."

"Is she a co-worker for Egypt?" Ron asked.

"No, she's a magizoologist now." Bill seemed to intentionally miss their looks of confusion this time. "But we were at Hogwarts together for a time. She travels a lot and helped Charlie with Order business aboard. She should be an honorary member by now, never asking questions and just doing whatever Charlie asked. She fought in the battle too. Came in the second wave. Trust me, she's a good witch to have on your side."

Hermione gulped at the implication that this stranger was a bad witch to have against you, but she bit her tongue as Bill finished his plate, left a note that they'd gone for his parents, and led them out to an old-styled sedan that gleamed with a fresh coat of wax. Harry and Ginny climbed into the back, Hermione following as she watched Ron get into the passenger seat. She was glad Harry was between her and Ginny, who kept shooting meaningful looks between Hermione and Ron.

The car zoomed down the dirt road, much smoother than it should have. The fields and trees blurred outside the window, and what should have been an over three-hour drive turned into less than thirty minutes as the scenery changed from greenery to crowded buildings.

"I thought it was illegal to enchant muggle artefacts," Hermione said as they paused at a traffic light.

"Cars tend to be the exception as long as no Muggles notice it acting strange," Bill said, glancing at her in the rearview mirror.

Hermione hummed her disapproval but didn't have time to pick up the argument before the car drove up to the sidewalk outside of the Leaky Cauldron. Bill pulled the car into park before stepping out and waving down a figure leaning against the wall of the pub. The witch was dressed in all black, from her loose-fitting shirt to her worn boots, except for a round, silvery-blue pendant necklace that hung down to her stomach. She flicked her long blonde hair off her shoulder as she pushed away from the wall. She maintained a composed poker face before reaching Bill and smiling widely. "You're late," she teased before hugging him.

"I don't remember giving you an exact time," Bill countered, clapping the witch on the shoulder. "Thanks for doing this."

"I felt I probably still owed you one," she said.

"You never owed me anything." Bill ducked his head down into the door, addressing the group. "Everyone, this is Pippa… Pippa Lee, now, isn't it?"

The witch, Pippa, rolled her eyes. "You were at the wedding," she said as she lowered her face next to Bill's. "Hello, everyone. Nice to meet you all." She smiled and pointed at each of them in turn. "Ron, Ginny, Hermione, and Harry, of course, right?"

They all nodded and waved awkwardly from their seats. Hermione hadn't felt this much like a child in years.

"Best not waste the day," Bill said, motioning Pippa inside. She slid down the bench seat to sit next to Ron, who's ears went a bit red as they bumped shoulders. Hermione huffed in her seat, determinedly staring out the window as they followed every single traffic law across London. For heaven's sake, could they get there any faster? And could Ron _not _get all flustered around the first new pretty face he'd seen since Bill's wedding? This woman was several years their senior and already married! She shook with the effort not to slap him across the back of the head.

"So what are you and Barnaby still doing in England?" Bill asked Pippa.

"Originally, we were only staying until it was legal to leave again," she explained. "Then, of course, we got the letter from Professor McGonagall about rebuilding Hogwarts. We had to stay. Especially after we heard the rumour that Rolf Scamander would be there."

"I think we met him yesterday," Ron piped up, glancing to the back seat for confirmation. "He was helping Hagrid, wasn't he?"

"Was he not the most amazing wizard you've ever met?" Pippa asked, her eyes wide and child-like. Ron recoiled at her sudden excitement. "He only graduated a few years after I did, but he's already done so much more that I could ever hope for myself. I suppose with a name like Scamander, magical creatures just flock to you wherever you go."

"It's also a name that easily gets Ministry funding," Bill added.

Pippa waved away the comment. "And with funding comes opportunity. What I wouldn't give to be part of his next expedition, but he's dreadfully difficult to get into contact with. We've heard he's prone to inviting along whoever happens to be nearby and interests him."

"So you've sent Barnaby to Hogwarts to get an invitation?" Bill asked.

"Exactly." Pippa smiled confidently, but Bill raised his brow with concern. "Come off it, Barnaby is plenty charming."

"To you," Bill muttered, "but are you sure the bloke can even find Hogwarts on his own?"

Pippa slapped Bill's shoulder. "Just because we can't all be top-of-our-class Headboys," she mocked.

"Says the top-of-her-class Headgirl."

Harry cleared his throat, leaning forward to interrupt the conversation. "Bill says you're an excellent curse-breaker. Is that a useful skill for magizoology?"

"Not particularly," Pippa answered, further deepening the confusion of everyone besides Bill. "But it was useful during our time at Hogwarts."

Hermione's attention was finally caught. She straightened herself in her seat and asked, "What curses were you breaking at Hogwarts?"

"The ones that guarded the Cursed Vaults." Pippa spoke nonchalantly but glanced around for a reaction. They gave none. "Did no one mention the Cursed Vaults while you were at Hogwarts?"

Harry and Ron both looked at Hermione. "I don't remember ever learning about them. Or reading about them In any of the library books," she said, scraping her memory for any mention of cursed vaults.

"Oh, I doubt we'll ever make it into a book," Pippa said. "Hogwarts did well to keep the entire thing pretty hush. But don't Hogwarts students gossip anymore? Information used to spread like wildfire while I was there. Couldn't keep anything a secret for more than an hour."

"Some secrets are worth keeping," Bill said, his eyes now glued to the road.

"Did you help?" Ron asked, both he and Ginny staring at their eldest brother like they were seeing a brand new side to him. "You never mentioned these Cursed Vaults before."

"I was only around for a few."

Pippa scoffed. "I would say three out of five counts as most."

"So what were the Cursed Vaults?" Ginny asked. "They seem a bit like the Chamber of Secrets."

"Not completely dissimilar," Pippa said, "but also not exactly the same. The vaults were dangerous and had dangerous people trying to get inside them. I spent most of my time at Hogwarts trying to find them before the wrong people did. It cost my best friend her life."

The car suddenly stopped, jolting everyone forward in their seats as Bill jerked the car into parking space. The temperature inside seemed to drop several degrees and the air thickened. "That was a long time ago," he said as he clicked off his seatbelt. "We've got enough heartache to deal with in the present. No need to bring up past pain."

Pippa, who's face had turned steely during her recounting, softened again at Bill's words. "Right. Let's go break some curses."

The group piled out of the car, their sombre mood only increasing as they approached 12 Grimmauld Place. Pippa jumped slightly as the house appeared to her for the first time, shoving aside its neighbours to squeeze itself between them. It looked the same as they'd left it months ago.

"What are we expecting in there?" Pippa asked as she stared up into the dark windows.

Bill started explaining. "The original Secret Keeper died two years ago, so everyone who knew the secret became Secondhand Secret Keepers. One of those was a Death Eater, who was on our side," Bill added quickly at Pippa's shocked face. "Anyways, he managed to keep the secret, but because of a long story I won't bore you with, another DeathEater named Yaxley was shown the house." Hermione stared at the ground, shame boiling in her belly. "We kept an eye out and only saw him enter again a few times, but who knows what he did to the place while he was here."

"How do you know he didn't bring other DeathEaters here?" Harry asked.

"He's not a Secret Keeper," Bill explained. "He couldn't have revealed it to anyone else."

Pippa put a hand on the back pocket of her black jeans, her palm on the handle of her wand. "Has this Yaxley bloke been arrested yet? Any chance he's waiting for us inside?"

Bill shook his head. "He's in Azkaban as we speak. We'll only have to deal with whatever he left behind."

With a confident nod, Pippa stepped onto the worn stairs, Bill right behind her. Neither one reached for the knocker, instead, taking out their wands and surveying the entire door before touching it. Nothing happened except a few sparks from their wands, which must have been a good sign because Bill pulled opened the door with a flick of his wand.

All six of them stared into the dark hallway, the late morning sun casting less than a foot of light into the room. Hermione reached for her wand, safely on the stairs and out of sight of any Muggles passing by. Pippa lifted her foot to step forward, but Bill stuck out an arm to stop her. He waved his wand in a complicated pattern, muttering once or twice to himself before releasing a shower of golden sparks into the hallway. They sped all the way down to the staircase before fading out of sight.

"Are you done yet?" Pippa asked, unimpressed. Before Bill could answer, she lifted her foot again, but instead of stepping inside, she leaned it against the door frame and untied her boot, not breaking eye contact with Bill as she did so. She slipped off her shoe and tossed it about a foot into the room. It landed upright with a thud.

From the ceiling descended a black smokey shape that resembled a bird if it had been drawn in ink then smudged against the page. It flew forward, knocking the group backward down the stairs as the front door slammed shut. There was a clambering of what sounded like chains from inside.

"What was _that_?" Ron exclaimed, sitting up beside Hermione. Thankfully, he'd managed not to land on top of her in the fall. Her back hurt enough as it was.

Bill held up a finger to quiet Ron, nodding across the street to a pair of elderly women staring at them. "Alright, dears?" one of them called over.

"Yes, we're fine. Thank you," Bill said, picking himself up and dusting off his front. The women eyed his scarred face warily, their eyes then drifting down to Pippa's missing shoe.

She jumped up, attempting to hide her stocking foot and wand hand behind Bill as she smiled at the women. "Those rickety old stairs can be a bit finicky, you know," she said with a smile that longed to be trusted.

The women seemed unconvinced of their trustworthiness but shuffled along, glancing back every few seconds and whispering to each other. Ron scrambled back to his feet and held a hand out for Hermione. Hermione gladly took it. "You okay?" he asked.

"I'm good. You?"

He lifted up his right arm, craning his neck to look at his elbow. His shirt sleeve had ripped where he'd landed, and Hermione could see a patch of red skin where the pavement had scraped against his arm. "Not as bad as getting Splinched," he said with a bemused grin.

"That's not funny," Hermione snapped, his smile instantly disappearing.

"I just meant–"

"I know what you meant, but it's not a joke."

"What are you getting in a twist about?"

"Nothing." She brushed past him back to Bill. "So what was that?" she asked in a terse whisper, glancing around for any more wandering Muggles.

"It's a very specialized entrapment curse," Bill explained, his eyes still following the pair of elderly women as they finally turned a corner. "It's meant to keep whoever trespasses trapped inside while the person who set the curse receives a signal that it's been set off. That spectral bird is probably off to find Yaxley in his jail cell."

"Still," Pippa interrupted, "it's probably best to get inside in the case that message is sent to someone else."

"Right. We'll work on getting the door back open. You four stay on the sidewalk. We don't need to risk anymore Muggles seeing us popping up out of nowhere. Try not to look suspicious," he added, glancing again in the direction where the two elderly women had gone.

Bill and Pippa stepped back up to the door, Bill complimenting her innovation while Pippa poked fun at his "fancy sparkles". Hermione turned to see Ron's reproachful glare before he sulked off to brood on the car's bonnet. Ginny gave her an annoying "told you so" look before purposefully heading in the opposite direction of Ron and leaning against the fence of 11 Grimmauld Place. Harry stood in place guarding the house, somehow managing to look even more suspicious than both of the Weasleys.

Wanting to avoid the conflict as well as to not draw attention to Harry's overly conspicuous stance, Hermione trudged over to Ginny. "I don't want to talk about it," she said quietly, cutting Ginny off before she could even start.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "What kind of a friend would I be if I let you get away with that?"

"A good one," Hermione suggested.

"The correct answer is: a sorry excuse for one." Ginny bumped Hermione's shoulder, trying to cheer her up. "So tell me, what are you two fighting about this time?"

Her words stung even though she didn't mean them too. Did Ginny think Hermione enjoyed arguing with Ron all the time? There were just some days that every little thing he did or said got under her skin. Like joking about getting Splinched in the same place where it had happened. The place she'd nearly lost him his arm because she hadn't been careful enough Disapparating. Why would he ever find that amusing?

Hermione took a breath as Ginny waited patiently for her answer. She couldn't very well say they were fighting over a joke he'd made. That's not what they were actually fighting about. What were they fighting about? That she wouldn't let him sleep on her floor last night? She wasn't about to tell Ginny about her nightmares. She already had one Weasley losing his head over them.

"We've just been disagreeing about a lot of things lately," she finally said.

"You two are always disagreeing about something."

"But it's different now."

"Because you're dating," Ginny said with an overtone of 'obviously'.

"Because we can't agree to disagree about these things," Hermione corrected.

Ginny nodded as if she understood exactly what Hermione was talking about. "So this is still about him becoming an Auror and not going back to Hogwarts."

"That's not what we're fighting about–"

"But it's what you're upset about."

Hermione didn't admit it, but she knew that, of course, yes, that was the root of the problem. Was it so incredibly selfish of her to want Ron to give up on this amazing opportunity that he'd always silently wished for just so she wouldn't have to face going back to Hogwarts without him? Of course it was. She knew that. And if he did ever decide to decline Kingley's offer and stay with her, she'd never escape the guilt... but she also wouldn't stop him.

"What are we supposed to do," Hermione asked, "if we can't agree to disagree or agree to agree? What else is there?"

"Well," Ginny said, scrunching her eyes in fake thought, "you could disagree to agree or disagree to disagree…"

Hermione blinked at her. "Ginny, that makes absolutely no sense. You can't disagree to agree, it's contradictory, and to disagree to disagree is just disagreeing."

"Exactly." Ginny grinned at her while Hermione stared in hopeless confusion waiting for an explanation. After a moment, Ginny put a hand on Hermione's knee and said in a serious voice, "Listen, Hermione. I am spewing Luna-level bullshit out of my mouth right now just waiting for you to get sick of it and go talk to Ron. So _go talk to Ron_."

Hermione huffed and looked away, but Ginny persisted. "Look, you're both going to just keep arguing about little things until you resolve the _real _issue. Just go up to him and tell him not to take the Auror training. Or don't tell him, accept his choice, and get over it." Hermione flinched at the harsh words, but Ginny squeezed her knee. "You've given me plenty of tough advice I didn't want to hear, so now it's my turn. Go fight this out. There's a big empty street here just waiting for you to stand in and yell at each other. Not to mention a car that has a backseat just asking for someone to snog in it."

Hermione couldn't hold in her chuckle, imagining Bill's reaction to Ginny's suggested scenario. "I think that would classify as 'acting suspicious'."

"Forget Bill," Ginny said with a wave of her hand, her words barely out of her mouth before a deafening snap cut her off.

Both of them jumped and whirled around to the front door. Both Bill and Pippa stood tense, teeth clench as they searched around for any nearby Muggles. At this rate, they'd be lucky not to have the police swarming the place by the end of the day.

Bill glanced down at the rest of them and said, "It's open."

"It's like he heard me," Ginny whispered in an incredulous whisper. She and Hermione locked eyes before bursting out laughing.

At Bill's strained request to hurry before any Muggles came by, Hermione and Ginny walked briskly back up the front stairs, still giggling. Harry already stood just inside the door, staring down at the tangle of dingy chains that stretched from just inside the door all the way to the staircase, Pippa's single boot wrapped up in front of them. Ron trudged in a moment later, his mood somehow more sour than before.

Pippa stood at the edge of the pool of metal links and stretched out a pointed toe to nudge them. "Don't touch them!" Bill shouted, coming in behind Ron and rushing forward a moment too late.

The chains remained motionless. He glared at Pippa as she shrugged. "I didn't want to lose another boot."

"So you're willing to lose a leg?" he asked, shaking his head as he lifted his wand and managed to vanish the chains with a single flick. Pippa's boot disappeared with them.

"You couldn't have gotten rid of them without taking my shoe with them?"

"Nope," Bill said simply, heading down the entrance without so much as a backwards glance. Pippa glared at his back but followed him, motioning the others forward. The door snapped shut, causing Hermione to jump backwards into Ron. He grasped her shoulder, holding tight as he quickly lit the end of his wand and held it in front of them both.

She glanced back at him, giving him a small smile before lighting her own wand. His hand disappeared.

Pippa aimed her wand up to the chandelier, and the hall flooded with light. She was met with an instant reprimand from Bill. "Don't touch anything! You don't know what might set off a curse."

"You don't know if it's going to set off a curse until you do it," Pippa argued.

"That's what we have detection spells for."

"Like those little golden sparkles that did so well detecting an entrapment curse?"

Their bickering reminded Hermione of the way Bill and Charlie had argued when they'd travelled from Hogwarts to the Burrow. Pieces started to come together. They'd both been hurting over Fred's death and taking it out on each other. Bill and Pippa had been getting along fine until she'd mentioned the death of her best friend. Everyone processed their pain differently, even years later. Did it ever stop hurting? And did it ever get easier to not take it out on those still alive?

"Hold on," Ron said from the back of the group, freezing everyone in place. He took a few steps backwards, his eyes scouring the walls. "That portrait of Walburga Black… it's gone."

Everyone's eyes, except Pippa's, darted towards the blank expanse of wall where a screaming portrait should have been. "It was fixed with a Permanent Sticking charm, though," Hermione said. "How…?"

"Everyone who tried to take it down was part of the Order," Bill said, his face scrunched as he tried to find reason. "Maybe only a fellow Blood Purist could take it down."

Ron scoffed. "She probably leapt off the wall as soon as a DeathEater walked in and begged him to take her away."

The silence in the house felt even more ominous now that they were aware of the lack of familiar screaming. Bill paused at the dining room, shooting another round of golden sparks inside. He glanced at Pippa as she came up beside him. "Care to throw something else in?"

"No, thanks," she said, "but not because I trust your little sparkles. Do you really think anything else here is cursed?" She pointed back towards the entrance. "That was a pretty big curse in itself, and DeathEaters tend to be pretty cocky. Why would they bother with anything else when no one was getting out of those chains by themselves?"

"You can't be too careful," Bill said simply, stepping into the dining room and asking Harry and Ginny to cast their wandlight as he examined the room with his own. Pippa meandered around, not lighting anymore candles but using her own wand to investigate the dresser full of antique china. Hermione and Ron looked around for anything misplaced that might have been tampered with, but neither of them completely remembered how'd they left the dining room the last time they were there.

The group took ages to move down to the kitchen, slowed by Bill's meticulous pace. Hermione admired his patience and thoroughness, but the others grew more and more restless. Ron sunk into a chair and stared up at the ceiling, giving in to the boredom, while Bill had to remind Harry to watch his wand as his attention wandered and the light at the end of his wand drifted away from where Bill was working. Even Pippa paced around for a bit before slipping out of the room, unnoticed by Bill until he announced the room clear a few minutes later. "Ugh, where did she get off to?" he muttered as he led the way back upstairs.

They found Pippa up in the drawing room, having lit every lantern and examining the Black family tree. It seemed Kreacher had kept up with the house cleaning after they'd gone. In the bright light streaming in from the window, every surface gleamed and not a single speck of dust floated in the air. Unfortunately, this gave everyone but Bill little to nothing to do. Hermione approached Bill and asked, "Can you show me the spells you're using? They seem useful to know."

So while Harry and Ron played several rounds of Exploding Snap with an ancient-looking deck Harry had found in one of the chests and Ginny showed Pippa around the rest of the house, Bill taught Hermione a few basic curse and jinx detection charms. Though he praised her for the wandwork, she felt little success as every wave of her wand caused the objects in front of her to do absolutely nothing. A part of her wished she'd stumbled upon a jinxed item. Then, at least, she'd know she was doing the spell right.

As they finished off examining the final sofa cushion, the last object Bill deemed as a possible danger, Pippa and Ginny returned, the former saying, "Can we please take a break for lunch?"

"I don't think there's any food here, is there?" Ron said.

"We passed at least half a dozen Muggle eateries on our drive here," Hermione said. "I'm sure we could find a place to get take out."

She could feel the reluctance at the mention of 'muggle' from everyone in the room, even Harry as he said, "We'd need muggle money."

"I always carry some on me," Hermione answered. "I can go."

"You can't go alone," Ron grumbled with annoyance as he got to his feet. "I'll come with you."

He seemed less than keen on the idea. "You don't have to if you don't want to."

"Well, you can't go by yourself."

"Someone else can come with me."

"Do you _want _someone else to go?"

"No, that's not what I–"

"Good. Let's go," Ron said with finality. He strode out of the room, his feet falling heavy on the stairs as he headed for the front door.

Hermione glared after him, her cheeks hot as she felt four pairs of eyes on her. Bill cleared his throat. "Pippa, why don't you go with them?"

Anger burned white in Hermione's veins. The last thing she wanted was for some pretty older witch to witness her and Ron's bickering while simultaneously making Ron blush and stutter like a schoolboy. The heat of her rage must have radiated off her because Pippa didn't entertain the idea for a second. "I think they'll be just fine on their own," she said, raising her hands to silently add that she did not want to get involved. "Besides, missing shoe, remember?"

"We won't be long," Hermione said, not making eye contact with anyone as she flounced out of the room and followed Ron's path downstairs. He sat on the stoop outside, waiting for her. "Ready?" she asked.

Ron grunted his affirmation, falling into step beside her as they walked down the block. "I think I saw a Chinese takeaway restaurant down this way," she said, trying to keep a cordial tone. Ron didn't reply. He strolled beside her at a slow pace, his hands deep in the pockets of his trousers and eyes begging to be anywhere else but at her side. She felt like she was dragging around a miserable guard dog. "You didn't have to come if you didn't want to."

Ron bristled "Did you not want me to come?"

"Not if you're going to be sulking the whole time."

"Seriously?" he asked incredulously. "You're going to tell _me _off? After you were the one who bit my head off earlier for making a joke."

"It wasn't funny–"

"So you said."

"–and you shouldn't have said it."

"Trust me, I won't make the mistake of trying to make you laugh again."

Hermione crossed her arms, trying to refrain from making a scene. They'd turned on to a much more busy street, and they'd already gotten a few second glances from those passing by. "There are just some things you shouldn't joke about," she hissed. "And nearly losing your arm is one of them."

"Right, remind me when I see George again that he can't make fun of his missing ear anymore. I'm sure he'll take that news well."

"That's not the same thing at all."

"Really? How?"

"Because it's _my _fault you were Splinched," Hermione said in such a passionate but hushed tone that her words were little more than puffs of air.

"It wasn't your fault," Ron said like that was the most absurd thing he'd ever heard. "If anything, it was my fault, trying to push Yaxley away as soon as I saw him. Even as I realized you were Apparating us again, I still tried to shoulder him down the stairs."

"It was still a stupid thing for me to do. Not giving your or Harry any warning. Either one of you could have lost your head!"

"Oh, Hermione," Ron said, shaking his head. "You need to stop being so hard on yourself. Just because you're the brightest witch of your age doesn't mean you don't make mistakes."

Hermione flinched. She hated being reminded of how normal and even necessary it was to make mistakes. Everyone said that, but if one simply read the research and thought it through before acting, so many mistakes could be avoided.

Pushing those thoughts away, Hermione focused instead on the current situation. How much longer was she going to stay angry at Ron for being insensitive? Was she even still angry? No, not about that, at least. Ginny was completely right, not that Hermione had needed it pointed out. Or maybe she did. If Ginny voiced it, Hermione couldn't continue ignoring how big of an issue this Auror training actually was.

However, now did not seem the time to bring that up.

"I'm sorry for being short with you," Hermione said, mending what she could in the moment.

"It's alright," he said, so easy to forgive. His hands emerged from the depths of his pockets to swing at his side in invitation. Hermione uncurled her crossed arms and took his hand, the tightness in her chest deflating as soon as his fingers entwined with hers.

Across the street, she spotted the Chinese restaurant she'd seen on their drive. Ron never had muggle takeaway before, let alone Chinese specifically, so he poured over the menu and asked about a hundred questions. Unsure what everyone would like, Hermione settled on a mixture of basics and extra rice in case they hated everything else. She quietly explained to Ron the conversion of what she'd spent in magical money as they waited for their order, then headed back onto the street.

As they crossed the road again, Hermione noticed a small corner bookstore right in front of them. It had been so long since she'd been in _any _bookshop, let alone a muggle one. Her feet automatically took her to the window, Ron's feet stumbling as she pulled him off course. She gazed inside for a moment before Ron asked, "D'you want to go in?"

"We should get back," Hermione said, though she didn't move away. "The food will get cold."

"And we couldn't possibly have a way to warm it back up," Ron stated sarcastically, motioning to the pocket he'd stored his wand in.

"Right," she said, her gaze snapping back to the books displayed in the window. They sat in stacks with a single upright copy propped on top of each tower, begging to be snatched up and read. They really shouldn't stay out too long though. "Well… maybe… if only for a few minutes…"

"Come on." Ron tugged her to the door, making the decision for her. After crossing the threshold, though, Hermione took the lead and went for the nearest row. The first half was dedicated to all the bestsellers, books with glistening covers and tiny ribbons underneath the title. Beside those were rows of magazines that instantly caught Ron's eye. He picked up an automobile copy, mumbling, "What's gas mileage?"

She chuckled as she watched him flip through the pages, but then a sign above his shoulder caught her eye. "Why don't you stay here," she said, putting a hand on his arm as he opened his mouth to argue. "I'll be right over there." She pointed behind him to another row that, with his height, he'd easily be able to see over the shelves.

"Alright," he grumbled, and she could feel him watching as she walked away. Being out in the world like this gave Hermione the distinct feeling of being exposed and unsafe. Even walking a few feet on her own away from Ron, the hairs on her arms stood up and her heart raced. A Death Eater could leap out from behind one of the shelves at any moment.

Hermione breathed deep to steady herself. They were in London in a muggle bookstore with the war over and no reason to think they'd been followed. In fact, there were only two other customers in the entire tiny shop that Hermione could see, and they'd been there before she and Ron walked in. They didn't need to be so cautious anymore.

Knowing Ron was still watching, Hermione stopped in front of the science section of books, running her hands along the covers and absentmindedly pulling a random book out to flip through it. She glanced behind her to see Ron's attention returned to the car magazine, jammed the book back into place, and quickly sidled down to the self-help shelf.

This was the opportunity she'd been waiting for. This was all she needed: a book to tell her exactly how to manage her nightmares and anxiety. Reading over the titles, though, the bubble of excitement in her chest burst: 'The Road to Happiness', 'Today's Success', 'Worries Be Gone'. None of them were what she was looking for.

"Can I help you find something?"

Hermione jumped, whirling around to find a girl about her age with round glasses and a bronze name tag behind her. "Sorry," she said, "I didn't mean to sneak up on you."

"It's okay," Hermione said as she realized she'd put a hand to her chest. She quickly returned it to her side and snuck a glance at Ron. She could just see the tops of his eyes turned down in confused concentration. "I was… I was actually hoping to find something to… to help a friend."

Not the most original lie, but the shop clerk showed no sign of disbelieving. "Ah, do you mind me asking you with what? I inventory all the books before shelving them, so I might be able to help you find anything you need."

"Well…" Hermione searched for the right words. She'd never really explained this to anyone who wasn't there, and this poor girl was a muggle and completely ignorant to the war that had been happening right under her nose. "My friend went through a bit of a… a rough time recently. Very horrible things. Everything is okay now, but they're still having issues with anxiety and irritability and… sleep."

The clerk nodded like she'd been told this exact same thing a million times. "Yes, I know exactly where to look. These books here are mostly motivational fluff with not much sound advice," she said, motioning to the self-help books. "However, just over here…" She led Hermione down the row, passed the science shelves she'd poked through earlier, and to another section labelled psychology. _Of course_, Hermione thought.

"Some of these books can be more technical than helpful," the clerk said as she ran her finger along the spines and scanned the titles, "but there's one I remember that seemed much more practical. Yes, here it is." She tugged out a moderately sized book with an off-white cover and fancy blue lettering that read _The Ghosts Of Our Past: A Guide To Overcoming Trauma_.

The clerk flipped through the pages. "If I remember correctly, yes, see, there's some exercises on working through various reactions a person may have: breathing techniques, talking points, and an entire chapter on supporting a loved one who's been through a traumatic event." She handed the book to Hermione. "Does that seem like what you were looking for?"

"Exactly," Hermione said, her hands shaking as she took the book and scanned the back cover. "Thank you."

"It's alight," the clerk said. "It's my job, after all. Speaking of, I think I'm needed at the till." She nodded over Hermione's shoulder where a middle-aged woman approached the round counter in the centre of the shop and tapped the little bell sitting beside the register. "Let me know if I can help you find anything else." With a warm smile, she dashed off to check out the muggle woman, leaving Hermione to stare down at the guidebook.

She had done it. She'd found the answer to all her problems. Once she read this book, everything would get better. It took all her willpower not to open to chapter one right at that moment.

Instead, she glanced over to Ron, not all that surprised when she met his eyes peeking over the shelf. She smiled and nodded in acknowledgement, trying to signal that she was almost finished, then his gaze settled back down again.

They really needed to get back to Grimmauld Place. He wouldn't ask her what she brought, would he? Oh, what if he did? She didn't mind telling him but that would lead to a whole conversation she didn't want to have until _after _she'd read this book and had a plan and could tell him exactly what his role in that plan was.

Hermione rushed to the centre of the shop, pausing by the table near the entrance that displayed the "Most Recommended Books Of The Month." She grabbed two at random and made it to the till just as the muggle woman took her bag.

"Find everything alright?" the clerk girl asked as she scanned the books, cringing as soon as the words left her mouth. "Sorry, force of habit. Oh, I love this book. Fell in love with the main character straight away, though I can't remember her name now…" Hermione nodded, making some noncommittal comment about finding the summary interesting, and hurrying the transaction along. All she could think about was getting the books into a bag and out of sight before Ron showed up at her side.

As the clerk handed her the bag and wished her a happy rest of her day, she heard the slap of a magazine hit the floor and Ron calling out her name. Her heart jumped in her throat at the panic in his voice, and when she turned, she expected a Death Eater to be standing right behind her.

But there was nothing there. She looked over to where she'd left him and saw his red hair bobbing back and forth frantically behind the shelf. "Hermione!" he called again before running back out to the centre, his eyes scanning the store before landing on her. "Shit," he said in relief, crossing over to her in two large steps.

He grabbed her by the shoulder, looking her over, his face pale and shining with sweat. "Ron, what's wrong?" she asked, still glancing around for a dark form in a cloak hiding behind a shelf.

"You… you disappeared," he said, the grip on her shoulders tightening. "You can't do that! I thought… I thought–"

"Shhh," Hermione hushed him, glancing behind her at the clerk who seemed to have overcome the shock of Ron's outburst rather quickly. Hermione put a hand to Ron's clammy cheek. "I'm right here. I didn't go anywhere. Come on." She grabbed his hand, pulling his grip off her shoulder and onto her fingers.

"Thanks again," she said over her shoulder to the clerk as she hurried Ron out of the store before they caused even more of a scene.

"Glad I could help," the girl said in a strange tone, staring after Ron like the pieces of Hermione's story finally made sense. Oh, if only she knew.

Once out in the fresh air, Hermione pulled Ron around the corner where the shop's windows ended at a solid brick wall. There were fewer people down this side street, and Ron leaned against the wall, his arms still shaking. "I don't know what's wrong with me," he muttered as he tried to catch his breath.

"Nothing's wrong–" Hermione started to say, but Ron cut her off as he crashed his back against the wall and ploughed on.

"I mean, I've woken up like that a few times in the night but… it's the middle of the damn day." He gestured up at the clear blue sky. "I don't know what happened. I didn't know where you'd gone, and it was like I knew the worst had happened and… and…"

Hermione grabbed both his hands in hers, stilling his jerky movements. "Trust me, Ron," she said. "I understand. Just breath. It will pass."

She clung to his hands as he closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. As his body relaxed, she did what she had wanted to do in the first place. She let go of his hands to wrap her arms around his waist and lean her head into his chest. His arms snapped around her, the bag of Chinese food hitting against the back of her leg.

His embrace tightened more and more the longer he held her, his heartbeat slowing against her ear. Just as his tight grip finally started to hurt, his arms relaxed but did not let go. Hermione closed her eyes, not wanting to leave the warmth of his body yet. There'd been such a distance between them for the past two days that she'd nearly forgotten how amazing being this close felt. She didn't want to go back.

She listened to the steady sound of his heart until a gurgling from his stomach crept in and interrupted her reprieve. They really needed to go back. There'd be a search party for them soon. Reluctantly, she lifted her head and stepped back. "We should go."

"Yeah," he said, though he seemed as disappointed by that fact as she. She pulled him away from the wall, forcing him back to the main road and down towards Grimmauld Place. As they walked, his stomach growled again, more aggressively than the first. "I can't wait to try this sour sweet chicken."

"Sweet and sour chicken," she corrected.

"Does the order really matter that much?"

"No, I guess not."

* * *

**Author's Note: **Wow, it's been a long time since I last updated this story, so if you are still sticking around, thanks a bunch! It's been difficult to continue creative endeavours with the state of the world at the moment, but it is nice to escape to them when I've got the energy to do so. I hope that this lengthy chapter is enough to earn some forgiveness for not posting a new chapter for nearly two months. I am going to finish this story, not to worry, but my momentum has definitely slowed with my mental health not being at its peak lately. Anyways, I always want to give a big thank you to anyone and everyone who has followed, favourited, and/or reviewed. You are the marshmallows to my hot chocolate.


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